


All the Way Around

by DrHolland



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek (Comics), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crossover, F/M, False Accusations, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Knotting, Love Triangles, Mildly Dubious Consent, Out of Character, Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 77,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrHolland/pseuds/DrHolland
Summary: After a glimpse of a reality even stranger than the mirror universe, it's time for the space-weary Enterprise crew to take a break. Captain Kirk throws his officers a party to end all parties. But after the dance is over, will things ever be the same again? NOTE: Spoilers for IDW's Star Trek ongoing comics, especially #59 & #60, where the TOS/AOS crossover idea came from.





	1. I Want You

**Author's Note:**

> This rather strange TOS/AOS Spuhura crossover fic was inspired by two things: 1) the Star Trek ongoing comics #59 and #60, “Altered Encounters,” where the crews of the Primeverse & Kelvinverse switch places, and 2) Marvin Gaye’s classic album _I Want You,_ from which the chapter titles will be derived.
> 
> While I’m assuming that issue #1 of the new IDW Kelvinverse comicbook series will take place post- _Star Trek Beyond_ , this story assumes that the anomaly that allowed the Prime/TOS crew to glimpse their alternate selves could also create a butterfly effect, creating yet another AU. 
> 
> Thus, this odd tale is based on the following three premises:  
> 1\. Everything up to the middle of season 3 of TOS is still canon.  
> 2\. Based upon [this episode chronology](http://www.johnstonsarchive.net/startrek/st-episodes-1.html), for the purposes of this story, the TOS/AOS crossover anomaly described in issues #59-60 of IDW’s Star Trek ongoing comics happened right after the events of the TOS episode “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield."  
> 3\. Everything in this version of the Primeverse/TOS after the anomaly is now AU.
> 
>  **2018 Note:** Because some people in Star Trek fandom don't bother to read the tags (specifically, all the warnings, notes  & disclaimers that the characters are OOC), I've locked this fic & set comments to moderation. (This is the first time I've had to do this for any story in more than 20 years of writing fanfic in more than a dozen fandoms.) 
> 
> Con crit, I don't mind; inane remarks about OOC Spock in an OOC AU Spuhura fic are simply annoying & beside the point. If this isn't your cup of tea, feel free to read the thousands of other fics about Spock, on the web and pre-Internet.
> 
> BTW, I don't own Star Trek, the Enterprise, or any of these characters. Also, I couldn't find a beta for this fic, so any/all mistakes in spelling, grammar, and characterization are my own.
> 
> Got it? Great. Here we go...

****What most of the Federation did not know was that the best crew in the ‘Fleet threw the very best parties. The _Enterprise_ was known for its multiple recreation rooms, generous state-of-the-art facilities (including a full gym!), and capable staff who oversaw the needs of every living being on the ship. Such facilities provided what the crew needed to not only survive in deep space, but to thrive, and to become much more efficient at their work.

A casual observer might get the impression that life aboard the _Enterprise_ in the late 2260s was all work and no play, _especially_ with a First Officer like the inscrutable Vulcan/human hybrid, Spock. Slackers in the ‘Fleet already knew not to seek a posting there thanks to the _former_ XO, the no-nonsense Number One. But when Spock took over daily operations, only the most qualified and ambitious officers applied.

Among those, only the very best of the best were selected. After all, the _Enterprise_ bore the same name as Admiral Archer’s famed NX-01 itself. A ship captained by the likes of Robert April, Christopher Pike, and now, most famously, James Tiberius Kirk could expect no less.

 _Captain Kirk._ Every being in Starfleet, no matter the species, would follow him anywhere in the universe. The loyalty and devotion that Kirk inspired in his crew was famous. He was an inspirational leader…

...but when things were quiet in deep space, and the shifts grew uneventful, what most of Starfleet didn’t know was that Jim Kirk was _fun._ He’d matured in the years since his infamous Academy days, but he could still be the life of the party.

They hadn’t had much time for parties lately, though. A series of hostile run-ins with every exotic malevolent alien species one could think of (Tholians! Platonians! Scalosians! The last two men from Cheron!) meant that the human crew had been working double shifts for quite some time. Some of the others whose species endurance was stronger than Terrans worked triple and even _quadruple_ shifts, yet even _they_ were growing fatigued.

A little rest and relaxation was in order. In the opinion of the majority of the crew, it was long overdue.

Spock, of course, was not much for parties. He had worked nonstop since the run-in with the Tholians weeks before. Unlike the rest of the senior officers, he was _not_ in need of a rest period every 24 hours. Therefore, it was logical for him to continue working as many as three or four shifts in a row. Every other day, he meditated. Every third day, he found time to sleep.

 _Adequate,_ he’d thought at the time.

His diligence was rewarded. Nothing had happened over the past 72 hours save for… a most curious anomaly. As the Enterprise sped away from Cheron back to Federation space, many individuals aboard experienced… _troubling_ hallucinations. Each of the senior officers, and scores of the rest of the crew, had visions of being on a different Enterprise, in a different universe altogether.

Of course, the crew of the _Enterprise_ were quite familiar with the existence of alternate universes. After all, they’d traveled to the strange mirror universe, as well as changed time through happenstance more than once.

But this? This was the strangest incident of all.

Meeting their alternate selves from the mirror universe was explicable. The Captain and the rest of the landing party had met the Halkans, then ended up on the version of the Enterprise with its evil crew; their evil counterparts had ended up on _their_ Enterprise.

This time, it wasn’t their bodies who traveled to the strange Enterprise with the oddly bright lights. It was merely their _consciousness._

 _Localized fluctuations in space time; random anomalies._ That was what Spock had written in his report, and that was the official explanation that went into the captain’s log. Yet he found himself curious about not only the cause of the anomaly, but what that other Spock’s timeline was like, particularly after his glimpse of the Enterprise of the other universe. Unlike what he’d learned of the Mirrorverse, it seemed that whatever differences existed in that universe, they possessed technology that theirs could only dream about.

The physics behind such spacetime fluctuations were fascinating. Spock would have liked to study the specifications of that strange ship, especially the computing systems. It was most fortunate that he possessed an eidetic memory, for he would be able to rely only on his observations, and interviews with the other crew members.

When he was next off duty, he hoped to run some of the calculations. Perhaps he could generate enough data to publish the findings…

He found it best to concentrate on the math, and not the details of that strange encounter. Especially since his current schedule left him with little time to meditate and rid himself of…

Other, _stranger_ thoughts.

Unfortunately, the captain had other plans, and neither math nor meditation were fated for Mr. Spock that day.

(Or that night, either.)

*

 

Spock knew that his face did not register disapproval at the captain’s suggestion during the bridge officers’ briefing after Cheron. Kirk told them that they all deserved a break before their next mission to deliver medicine to Elba II -- which Command wanted them to do _instead_ of taking their appointed shore leave at Starbase 4.

The crew was weary, especially the harried officers. They needed a way to alleviate a little stress.

What would be better than a party?

Both the captain and the doctor decided to use this as an opportunity to tease _him,_ something that Spock did not understand, yet had come to anticipate.

“I’m requiring your presence there too, Spock. It’ll be good for the morale of the senior officers.”

Spock’s neutral expression did not change at the attempt to get him to “socialize.”

“As I have raised no objection, Jim, I fail to understand why any rationale is necessary. You are the captain of this ship, and as such, your decision is final.”

“Yes, but everyone knows you don’t like parties, Spock,” McCoy drawled. “Your Vulcan idea of a good time is running diagnostics of the ship’s systems. Where’s the fun in that?”

“What one finds entertaining is quite relative, Dr. McCoy.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to a break,” Sulu declared. “The past two months have been trying to say the least.”

Chekov agreed. “The wery last straw vas vhen the men who looked like chess pieces almost made the Captain blow us all to smithereens!”

McCoy and Scotty found this amusing, as did Sulu, laughing at Chekov’s way of putting the Cheronian affair. But Uhura shuddered, remembering.

“I think it’s a splendid idea, Captain,” she told him. “But I hope you’ll invite all senior staff, not just the bridge officers. Otherwise, I’ll be the only lady at the party!”

“C’mon, dollface, you know you like being the center of attention, now don’t you?” McCoy teased. “Think about it, your dance card would be full all night."

“Please, Len! The only one of you boys who can keep up with me on the dance floor is Hikaru, on his _best_ day! Besides, I’d never hear the end of it from Christine and Janice if they aren’t there. Of course they should attend, along with all our relief officers… Leslie, Masters, DeSalle, M’Ress, Arex, all of them. I’ll sing… and Mr. Spock, you can play for us! That’s why you have to come.”

He raised an eyebrow in response. “I believe I stated that I would attend the function, Lieutenant,” he replied.

Uhura looked at McCoy. They turned to Spock, both beaming.

To his credit, Spock refrained from noting how illogical they both were. All the same, he felt rather irritated.

Yes. Extended meditation would be required, and soon.

“Then it’s settled,” was Kirk’s verdict. “Officers’ mess, 2100 hours. Dismissed.”

 

*

 

When the crew of the Enterprise partied? They _partied._

In addition to a few choice snacks from the state-of-the-art replicator, the medical staff opened up the liquor stores in Sickbay and emptied them out for the occasion. Everyone’s favorite poison was there. There was smuggled Romulan ale and Enolian spicewine, sake, several bottles of the finest Scotch, plenty of Scotty’s engine-room hooch, and much, much more. Regrettably, Sickbay was fresh out of vodka, but Chekov had several bottles of Saurian brandy stashed away in his quarters from the last shore leave, so all was well.

The atmosphere was merry, as all the ship’s officers ate, drank, talked, danced, played games and listened to music, trying to unwind from the hectic and perilous month they'd just lived through. By 2300 hours, most of them were well on their way to being totally wasted.

The ladies were extremely fond of the Enolian spicewine.

“Wherever did Len find this?” wondered Yeoman Janice Rand aloud. “I don’t even like to drink, but this stuff sure isn’t my grandma’s spicewine!”

Lieutenant Charlene Masters swirled the beverage in her glass, licking the salt from her fingers. “Sure isn’t,” she noted, swigging the contents of her replicated flute down. “Better drink it fast before Nyota finishes the whole bottle!”

“Shut up!” giggled Uhura, already tipsy. “Unlike you ladies, _I_ can hold my liquor. Compared to the changa'a that my brother Kamau and his friends used to make, this is nothing!”

Within an hour, the beta shift officers were joining them, having been relieved by gamma shift. Soon, several more bottles of the spicewine were empty, and the third barely held a cup… along with countless empty bottles of sake, Scotch, and Romulan ale.

The crew was definitely making merry. Many were dancing to the popular music that played on the comm. Chekov and Sulu were engaged in a playful game of arm wrestling as others cheered them on. Masters and Rand had joined Kirk and Scotty on the sidelines, placing bets on the action.

“Ten credits says that Sulu takes the Russian!” laughed Yeoman Rand.

“No, Pavel’s got this one!” shouted Lieutenant Masters. “Take him!”

“Aye, I’m with you, lass,” said Scotty, taking a swig from a flask, his arm curling around her waist.

“That’s because you’ve never been on the business end of the best helmsman in the ‘Fleet’s sword!” Kirk told him. “Isn’t that right, Yeoman?”

In response, Rand, daring much for even a party, swatted at the captain…

...and her hand rested lightly on his rear end, just as Sulu took the match, slamming Chekov’s wrist to the table.

“Oh, excuse me, sir!” she whispered to him as everyone cheered, aware of the impropriety of her action despite her inebriated state. “I’m so sorry!”

Much to her surprise, the captain shook his head.

“I’m not.”

And his hand covered hers.

Across the room, those less inclined to watch the wrestling were gearing up for a bit of live music. The recorded music was shut off, and Spock took his ka’athyra from its case. The ka’athyra was the Vulcan lyre that he played so often during the first few years of the mission. These days, with his duties mounting and the numerous run-ins the Enterprise had, he did not have much time.

However, he rarely neglected Lieutenant Uhura’s weekly lesson. Either in his quarters or hers, they met for the better part of an hour so that he could teach her how to play. She’d made significant progress over the past eighteen months since he’d offered to provide tutelage. Spock was pleased by this. She had quickly outgrown the smaller practice lute he’d used while learning as a child. He had contemplated purchasing her a ka’athyra of her own so that she could practice on an instrument more suited to her proportions. Such a purchase was only logical, he’d thought…

...until the odd anomaly of the past week, which surfaced much that he’d believed he had subsumed during meditation years ago.

Fascinating.

The first composition he played was more of a technical exercise that he learned when he was quite young. It was designed to teach precise fingering and musical phrasing. He played it flawlessly, as his teachers and Sarek had expected nothing but precision. Something about the melody reminded him of the dry heat of the Vulcan evening, the sunset filling the main room of his parents’ home on the outskirts of ShiKahr with a red glow.

When it was over, he looked up, and there was applause that crescendoed as the group watching the wrestling disbanded in search of other entertainment. And there were a few goading Uhura to sing… “go on, Mr. Spock will accompany you!”

She smiled, then turned toward where he sat with his ka’athyra.

“Would you mind terribly, Mr. Spock?”

 _She has a most agreeable smile,_ thought Spock before he could stop himself.

Once, 2.57 years ago when she was new to the ship, Lieutenant Uhura had drawn a slight smile out of him in public due to her teasing. Due to the chaos that the young Charlie had unleashed back then, no one remembered it after.

Spock had not forgotten. Eidetic memory was infinitely practical, but he found that his inability to forget had its complications as well.

_Why had she elicited that response when others had tried and failed? It wasn’t as if he was under the influence of any spores, potions, or unpleasant hormonal fluctuations at the time. It wasn’t as if she was the only appealing woman aboard the ship, either, although he was quite partial to her face and form._

_No matter the reason, it would not do to allow his emotional control to slip when it came to a subordinate. The Enterprise was Lieutenant Uhura’s first post-promotion posting, and she was actively seeking mentoring from Spock. It would not do to allow his subsumed human half to interfere with his commitment to the path of Surak._

_During his meditations over the next few weeks, he acknowledged to himself that the Lieutenant was, indeed, an “attractive young lady.” He noted that she was quite aesthetically pleasing, with a friendly personality that enhanced crew morale. After the first few weeks, she’d mastered her duties, and all her subsequent reports were error free. While she was a bit more overtly emotional than was warranted by her position, the Lieutenant displayed not only a high degree of competence and intelligence, but also asked essential questions and made important observations at critical times._

_After sufficient meditation, Spock did not suffer further undue breaches of emotional control where the lieutenant was concerned. The only lingering problem was her scent on the bridge, which his keen Vulcan sense of smell picked up from time to time. It was quite becoming, and assaulted his senses at the most unexpected times. He assumed that it was due to the chemistry of the perfume she wore, but after an idle inquiry 13.5 months ago, he learned that she didn’t really wear artificial scent while on duty (“my Academy roommate was really sensitive to artificial scents”). She used regulation soap and lotion, and a special shampoo for her hair that was lightly scented._

_The revelation that her natural scent had distracted him led to more meditation, until he had incorporated the detail into his sensory assumptions about the bridge, the ready room, and the officers’ mess..._

_Not to mention her quarters… and his. Most often, the ka’athyra lessons would happen in the living area of his quarters, since he stored his instrument there._

_Afterward, her scent would linger. He found the effect was not unpleasant._

All of this passed through Spock’s mind in less than a second after her question. Before she could draw breath to speak again, he inclined his head, and began to play a familiar tune.

Her smile brightened as she began to sing.

 

_The tangled web of Tholians,_

_The tricks and trials of Platonians,_

_The buzzing lies of Scalosians,_

_The Enterprise’s been through…_

 

_These nonstop days are dreary_

_Our ensigns are getting weary_

_But know this well, space dearies,_

_We are the ‘Fleet’s best crew!_

 

That elicited a generous round of applause, as well as a fair number of cheers. More and more people gathered around to listen as she spoofed their last few dangerous missions, summing them up in ways that made their listeners laugh.

Once in a while, Uhura would touch Spock lightly on the shoulder as she sang. She did it just twice during the course of the song. But it was enough. He found that her touch lingered, burning through the fabric of his standard-issue, science blue tunic.

The second time, he looked up at her, not missing a beat as he played. She smiled back with embarrassment, mouthed “sorry” between verses, and he turned back to his lyre.

Not only was Spock not sorry, she had no idea how _not_ sorry he was. In order to teach her the ka’athyra, he’d _had_ to place her hands until she learned the correct positions and fingerings. She was no Vulcan and had much to learn about how to play it, for the strings were much more taut than on comparable Earth instruments.

Every time he did this, he’d shielded completely so that their minds did not touch. Contrary to popular belief on the ship, he _could_ do this, and he had grown adept at it over his years of service in Starfleet with humans.

_But even as he did, there had been her emotions, simmering tantalizingly just underneath the surface._

_Your hands are a great deal smaller than mine, Miss Uhura. You will need to stretch your fingers…_

_Like this?_

_Yes. Just like that._

Spock thought of that -- and more -- as Uhura sang.

 

*

 

Finishing her lyrics to more applause, Uhura laughed disconcertingly close to Spock’s ear. So close, in fact, that he could feel the whisper of air from her lungs against his sensitive eardrums.

“Thank you,” she told him, a note of happiness in her voice. To those listening, she said, “A round of applause is due for my teacher and mentor, our own Mr. Spock!”

“Hey, Nyota,” called Nurse Chapel over the applause, “if Spock’s been teaching you so much, why don’t you play for us?”

Uhura’s smile faltered a bit. “Because I’ve had nearly a bottle of spicewine, and the Commander doesn’t want his best lyre broken?”

“You would find any ka’athyra difficult to break, Miss Uhura,” Spock said, standing and motioning for her to sit. “It is a most resilient instrument.”

He placed the lyre into her hands, finding sufficient cause to adjust her position slightly as he did so. Once she was settled, Nurse Chapel was gesticulating enthusiastically toward a seat next to her. Spock had planned to stand near Uhura to provide further assistance or instruction should it become necessary. However, as there was a place in the audience for him, to refuse the nurse would be illogical.

Christine Chapel beamed at him as he took his seat. As the Lieutenant began to play, she whispered, “Nyota’s getting very good! I’m not surprised, you’re an excellent teacher.”

“Her playing is adequate,” Spock noted. Which was true. Unlike her exemplary linguistic skills and unparalleled aural sensitivity, her ka’athyra playing was not yet proficient. Cataloguing numerous mistakes, he resolved to ask her whether once per week was sufficient for their lessons. Perhaps two or three times a week would not be amiss whenever the ship’s shifts were uneventful and routine.

“You really have taught her how to play that thing,” said the nurse, lowering her voice. “Perhaps I should take a few lessons myself… that is, if you’re offering.”

Spock said nothing. He was still making note of the errors in Uhura’s playing, watching her slender brown fingers fly across the strings, her perfectly polished nails plucking the melody. In his mind, he made a full list of the adjustments he would instruct her to make during their next lesson.

He looked at Chapel as Uhura finished to more applause, fully expecting to echo the nurse’s “perhaps.” Instead, he said:

“A certain level of fluency in Vulcan is required for learning to play the ka’athyra. Lieutenant Uhura is one of only four personnel aboard fully conversant in Vulcan, thus uniquely suited for such instruction.”

Nurse Chapel’s eyes were on his lips as they rose from their seats. Spock would have felt a degree of discomfort, but he’d come to realize that his human crewmates would display out-of-character behavior while inebriated. Their apologies afterward made no sense, as intoxication eroded the usual social niceties.

“I would love to learn Vulcan from you someday, Mr. Spock,” Chapel said softly.

“Oh, I’m sure you would, Christine,” laughed Yeoman Rand, looping an arm around the nurse’s neck. “Come along, let’s finish the rest of that spicewine before someone else beats us to it.” To Spock, she said, “Hope you’re enjoying the party, sir.”

Spock went back to retrieve his lyre from Uhura and place it back into the case. She was smiling happily at the compliments she was receiving from several officers, including Sulu and McCoy’s second-in-charge down in Sickbay, Dr. Jabilo "Geoffrey" M’Benga.

“That song reminds me of a tune my grandmother used to play,” said Sulu, admiringly.

“I think I recognized it, too,” M’Benga said as Uhura handed the lyre to Spock. “It’s from the classical period, right?”

“It is a neoclassical composition,” said Spock. He wanted to add, _and it does not sound at all like classical Vulcan music,_ but knew humans would find this insufferably rude. He still did not always understand their objections to logic as being “rude,” but for the sake of crew morale, chose to overlook the doctor’s error during off-duty time.

Feeling rather magnanimous, Spock decided to take his leave of the gathering. After all, he had done what the captain had asked. It made sense for the crew to see that their first officer knew how to, as they put it, “hang out for a while.” But now he wished to return his instrument to his quarters, and meditate. The slips in his emotional control were due to fatigue. Sufficient meditation and rest would restore him to optimal condition.

Uhura and Kirk had other ideas.

“Now, Mr. Spock, you know it’s far too early for you to leave!” she said. “The night is young!”

“And you promised me a round of 3D chess,” said Kirk. “Come on, Spock, I won’t take no for an answer.”

Spock could think of no logical objection to make. He was fatigued and in need of rest, but the human crew members were much more in need of it, and seemed determine to party all night long. To object as he always did, and retire despite their objections, was perhaps not the appropriate course of action after the crew had just been through so much.

“Very well, Jim,” conceded Spock. “One round.”

 

*

 

“I demand a rematch.”

Spock folded his arms. “I believe I stated that I would play only one round with you.”

“You played one match, Spock,” Kirk pointed out, swirling his Saurian brandy in the glass tumbler he held for emphasis. “A round should be best of three, especially since I’ve been drinking, and you haven’t.”

“I must correct you, captain. I have been drinking exactly the same beverage that you have.”

Saurian brandy left much to be desired, Spock always thought. Most alcoholic beverages did not have a pleasant flavor in his opinion. He could not determine how humans could overlook the taste in their quest to become intoxicated. At least the Vulcan physiology made far more sense when it came down to it; chocolate and cinnamon might have their deleterious effects, but were quite gratifying to the palate.

“You know that’s just a technicality, Spock,” drawled an unusually mellow McCoy. “That stuff’s like apple juice to that green-blooded system of yours!”

“Sure is,” said Chapel, who’d been hovering around their game. “But I think I know just how to even the odds.”

And she offered him a rather large bar of milk chocolate with a wicked twinkle in her eye, placing it next to the brandy tumbler that he’d just set down.

Spock looked at it as if the nurse handed him a snake.

“Oh, come on, Spock,” Kirk said, laughing at his second-in-command and best friend. “It’s only fair. The rest of us are getting wasted. Might as well join the fun.”

“Forgive me, Jim, but I do not see where the fun in purposeful intoxication lies…”

“You know you want it, Spock,” laughed McCoy. “You can even _smell_ that chocolate candy, for God’s sake!”

As Christine and Jim laughed, Spock made the mistake of inhaling ever so slightly and indetectably, looking up with a slight frown…

...and seeing Lieutenant Uhura, laughing merrily at something that Sulu was telling her, M’Benga, Leslie, and Masters. The chess board was set up right next to the table where all the drinks were, and their group were headed in that direction.

“Prove to us that you’re not just a giant calculator,” McCoy declared, “and just _nibble_ a little.”

“That would hardly be appropriate,” said Spock tersely.

The chattering group had reached the game, flushed with laughter over Sulu’s story. Uhura saw the chocolate on the table next to Spock's hand, and snatched it up.

“Hey!” objected Chapel. “That’s for Mr. Spock!”

“How could you be so mean, Christine?” Uhura fussed, breaking off a piece of the end of the candy bar. “You know Mr. Spock can’t have any chocolate!”

“Can’t, or won’t?” said Jim, holding up his glass so that Chekov could top it off.

“It’s important that we respect other cultures, sir,” Uhura said, ever the xenolinguist. "Some kinds of teasing just aren't right!"

“Even at a party?” said McCoy skeptically.

“ _Especially_ at a party. Thank you, Christine, for the chocolate,” she said, popping the piece of it she’d broken off into her mouth, then taking another generous bite. “My favorite.”

Spock glanced at her from the corner of his vision. Her usually neatly pinned up black hair was down, grazing her shoulders. Her eyes were slightly more heavy-lidded than normal, evidence of all the spicewine she’d indulged in.

But what assaulted his senses most were her words. The breath of air that she emitted when she uttered _my favorite_ was scented with both _chocolate_ and _Uhura._

He sensed that he was becoming emotionally compromised. It was time to take his leave of this gathering before his logic failed him entirely.

“Nice try, Nyota,” Chapel was saying, taking the chocolate bar away from the giggling communications officer. “Mr. Spock, I never meant any harm.”

“Technically, chocolate isn’t harmful to Vulcans unless eaten in large quantities,” observed M’Benga. “The effect is much like alcohol to the human body. It might actually even the odds during your next game, captain.”

“I hardly suspect that to be the case, Dr. M’Benga,” said Spock, “since I am a three-dimensional chess grandmaster and the captain has only been playing for approximately 2.9467 Earth years…”

“Master, schmaster,” said the captain, who’d drained his glass. “Are you going to eat the damn chocolate or not, Spock?”

“I am not, Jim.”

“I double dog dare ya,” taunted McCoy. “Come on, Spock, you know the old saying! The crew that gets wasted together stays together.”

“There is no such saying, doctor. But there was, in old Earth lore, the concept of a ‘designated driver.’ It is logical for one of the senior officers to retain their faculties in case the ship encounters any trouble.”

“Logic, schmogic,” was Kirk’s reply. “Might as well play another match or two, Spock, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Very well,” said Spock, who felt he was being more than generous. He could beat Kirk handily within the next Terran hour, and retire to his quarters for a modicum of quiet.

“Wait a minute,” Chapel protested. “You need to have some of that chocolate! M’Benga said there’s no harmful effects. Mr. Spock, if the captain has another round, you _must_ take a bite.”

Uhura seemed to be thinking. “You know what? Christine’s right. Mr. Spock, you beat all of us easily when we’re in our right minds. Surely one bite of chocolate wouldn’t hurt. After all, isn’t fairness logical?”

“I fail to see your point, Miss Uhura.”

“The point is that if you’re a chess grandmaster, and your opponent is a beginner, and God knows how many drinks he’s had, perhaps it’s not exactly fair for you to play him unless the odds are evened up.” She smirked at him. “Now, that’s logical, isn’t it?”

He couldn’t say that it wasn’t. Taking the bar of chocolate back from Nurse Chapel, he broke off the smallest corner possible, and ate a bit of it.

As he made the first move, the forbidden sweetness melted on his tongue.

 

*

 

“Check!”

Spock squinted at the board. _Intriguing._ How hadn’t he seen that move of Kirk’s coming? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d made such a mistake, if ever.

Kirk beamed up at him. “Your move, Spock.”

He looked at the board, trying to focus. Yet all of his senses seemed to be on overdrive. All around the room, people were drinking, talking, and laughing… was it 2400?

 _No. 0050._ His blood ran cold as he realized he’d lost track of time.

He looked down at the chocolate accusingly. Who would imagine that the most miniscule proportion of the infernal Earth candy would...

But there was nothing left but telltale brown crumbs. Spock tried to recall eating the rest of the chocolate bar and failed. Had Ny--Lieutenant Uhura or Nurse Chapel taken the rest from him? Why couldn’t he remember?

Spock never forgot _anything_.

“Everything all right, Spock?” Kirk asked.

He looked up at the man he’d come to think of not only as his captain, but also as his very best friend. With some trouble, he nodded.

“That chocolate must’ve done a number on you,” observed Kirk. “You really ought to have it more. Maybe that way, you could build up some tolerance… _Chekov!_ Bring Spock a little water, will you?”

“I am feeling fine, Jim,” Spock assured him. “I will get some water from the replicator.”

This seemed to satisfy Kirk. However, as Spock headed toward the machine, his heart thudded in his side.

 _Feeling fine._ Sarek would be speechless, he thought.

In spite of himself, Spock cracked a half smile.

That’s when he realized he was in a great deal of trouble.

 

*

 

The replicator was malfunctioning.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Spock would have had the problem diagnosed within a few minutes. Generally, he would just fix it himself, unless one of the newer ensigns needed practical experience doing so.

However, there were two problems.

Spock was quite inebriated from the chocolate he’d ingested.

And the person who’d broken the replicator was none but Lieutenant Uhura.

_Who was now holding the very last glass of water in the room._

And who was very busily sipping from it, spilling a little on her uniform in her haste.

When she saw Spock, she choked on her sip.

“Oh, forgive me, Mr. Spock!” she said, handing him the glass of water as she coughed. While a human might have patted her on the back, Spock didn’t -- as long as she was talking and breathing, she was not in danger.

As she composed herself, Spock considered the glass of water in his hand.

“I’m sorry,” she continued, “but I think I did something to the replicator,” she explained. “I’ve been drinking too much and thought I’d get a little water. But it seems I’ve had enough! I’ll call someone to fix the replicator, and in the meantime, you can have the rest of my water.”

“That is not logical,” he told her, holding out the glass. “Routine maintenance staff will fix the replicator after we have vacated the room. There is adequate hydration in our quarters.”

“That’s true,” Uhura said. “But that would require going back to your quarters. And please forgive me if I’m being insubordinate, Mr. Spock, but I don’t think I’m ready to let you go to bed yet.”

And she folded her arms.

He raised an eyebrow, lifting her glass to his lips. The moment his mouth touched it, he knew it was exactly where her lips had been.

He could _taste_ her.

(And the spicewine.)

(And the chocolate.)

(But mostly her.)

Feeling his logic evaporate, he handed Uhura back the glass after one small sip.

“I insist.”

She smiled and took it back. “Are you ‘adequately hydrated” now, Mr. Spock?”

_Inconclusive. I will not be able to make a determination until I drink from the source._

Where had that thought come from? Yes, it was indeed time to retire.

“Good night, Miss Uhura.”

He turned to go, but she said, “Wait a minute, you’re not going to leave your ka’athyra here, are you? It’ll get ruined.”

Spock looked around. The party was unraveling, as the officers danced and cavorted and enjoyed the last few minutes of revelry before the party ended and a few short hours later, alpha shift would begin. He did not wish to note all the details of everything he saw, including a few officers of unlike rank cavorting in the corners of the room. The officers knew discretion, but they also knew the importance of maintaining crew morale in deep space.

What happened during the party would remain at the party.

 _I suppose this is what humans mean when they say they are “blowing off steam,”_ thought Spock. To Uhura, he said, “If you would like to keep the ka’athyra until your next lesson, you may do so by all means.”

“Thanks, but perhaps you should take it and bring it by my quarters tomorrow after shift. Yours is heavier than the one I used to have… it’s that case, I think.”

Spock considered this. “Then I shall accompany you to your quarters, so that you may have adequate time for practice before we meet again.”

Uhura bit her lip. “You heard the mistakes I made, didn’t you?”

“It seems that I was alone in doing so. The audience seemed pleased.”

And her bright smile threatened to dissolve the modicum of logic that he’d retained.

 

*

 

“Thanks for walking me to my quarters,” Uhura whispered, keying her code in and sighing as the doors swished open.

Spock followed her inside, carrying his instrument into the pink and purple feminine rooms. While the color scheme seemed particular to Earth women, the atmosphere was distinctly Uhura.

He placed the ka’athyra case on the table, as it was the most logical place for it. Uhura was watching him.

“Are you going back to the party?” she asked.

“Yes. It is…” Spock struggled to calculate the exact time, “...nearly time to, as you say, ‘wrap up’ the festivities. I trust that crew morale is sufficiently restored for the time being.”

She laughed lightly as she walked him to the door.

“Spock?”

He turned around.

“You’re the best.”

Then Uhura did something she’d never done before.

She kissed him on the cheek.

Before she could pull away and bid him good night, his hands were spanning her waist, and their eyes were locked.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. All the answer he needed was in her eyes… then in her kiss as their lips met.

And it so happened that Spock never made it back to the party that night after all.


	2. Come Live With Me, Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next day from Uhura's POV. Unbeta-ed, yet again. See previous chapter for disclaimers. 
> 
> You're all such lovely creatures for even reading this hot mess. :)

Nyota Uhura blinked awake, rubbing her eyes, staring in confusion at the console.

_0630._

Her tongue was plastered to the roof of her mouth. It was as if she’d slept with cotton balls in her mouth. Yet her entire body was dewy with sweat. Twisting in damp sheets, she longed for a glass of water. Although the replicator was on the other side of the half wall that separated the living and sleeping areas of her quarters, she needed to quench her thirst.

She felt feverish.

 _Four glasses of Enolian spicewine. Or was it six or seven? Nine?_ Ten? _Can’t remember._

It turned out that she didn’t need to go all the way to the replicator. There was a glass on the stand next to her bed…

...along with a hypo.

_A hypospray?_

_What happened last night?_

Uhura tried to piece together the night before, because she felt... _different._ Odd. Stretching to reach for the glass, she blinked the sleep from her eyes, trying to figure out what she was feeling.

_I’m sore. My neck hurts, and… so do my legs! Did I sleep the wrong way? Bump into something at the party?_

_Feels like I’ve run a marathon. But this is not how I usually feel when I’m hung over. Usually a bit of water, some stretching exercises, and I’m fine._

_Wait a minute._

Uhura threw the covers back.

She didn’t have a stitch on beneath her sheets.

_What in the...?_

She sat up in bed. Memories of the night before came flooding back in waves, threatening to drown her. Drinking… why had she drunk so much of that damned spicewine? Maybe it was because it had been over a month since she’d been able to think about anything other than her communication console, and the sensor array, and her department. That is, when she wasn’t thinking about all the various ways they were all going to die in deep space. (The run-in with the Tholians, and seeing a ghostly apparition of the captain in interspace, still gave her nightmares.)

Perhaps she’d drunk so much because she wanted to forget it all.

For Uhura, a party meant music. A chance to sing, and play, and dance, getting lost in the melodies and harmonies, letting them wash her troubles away. She’d been that way since she was little. But parties on the Enterprise meant singing as _he_ played, which was a different matter altogether.

Ridiculous as the hunch was, Uhura long suspected that Spock indulged her antics a bit more than he did some of the other crew, especially the other bridge officers of her rank and lower. If any other officer teased him the way she did from time to time, she knew they’d be written up. Spock was not always patient with human humor, and only the captain and McCoy were not intimidated by his cutting remarks in response to it. Yet she never voiced this difference, and no one ever suspected. After all, he was Vulcan, and most couldn’t see past his emotionless mask.

Yet after nearly three years of the mission, Uhura thought that she could see right through him… at least, she could at times. After all, she _was_ the chief communications officer of the Federation flagship. Few were as sensitive to nuance as she was. But she didn’t have to use her xenolingustic or xenocultural training to know that his eyes were on her almost every time she looked in his direction at the party.

Of course, Spock looking at a girl didn’t mean much, Uhura had reasoned long ago. Part of her had always thought he was compiling data on the profound illogic of human women whenever he did. But Uhura had wondered why he had been studying her so intently. That hadn’t happened since she first came to the ship…

...until four days ago, when someone who was _not Spock_ had inhabited his body. Of course, this had happened several times before, so much that the crew was getting used to any strange thing that happened in space, as long as they ultimately survived it.

This time was different. The first time, he’d gotten into bed with her-- well, at least, _a_ Spock had gotten into bed with her -- as if it was something he did nightly. Uhura had been shocked, horrified, even indignant.

The second time, well... judging from her state that morning, this time, he hadn’t been unwelcome.

_What did I do last night? I remember much of it, but not all. Did I throw myself at him? Was I too clingy? Is that why he left?_

But she knew better. Peering over her shoulder, she saw the tell-tale depression in the pillow. Her fingers moved over it, then over the warmth beside her in the sheets. Sheets that had preserved his scent.

He hadn’t left that long ago.

Uhura buried her face in her hands. _What a disaster! Could things get any worse? In less than a month, I’ve managed to kiss the captain and... sleep with the first officer! I don’t care if I was under duress the first time, and tipsy the second. I’m due for a promotion in another year and a half. I want my own ship someday. My father joked that I would be the first female Admiral from Africa, but I plan to prove him right._

_I’ve always prided myself on being the most efficient and reliable of the operations officers assigned to the bridge of the flagship… not the “girl.” Never the girl. Some of my friends think that a lady can do both, but Starfleet is still traditional. You can’t have things both ways. Maybe in the future, but not now. It’s like my advisor said at the Academy. A woman officer in the ‘Fleet has to choose between her career and her heart, especially the higher you go up in the ranks._

_How could I let this happen?_

_How?_

She stood up uncertainly, taking the sheet with her to ward against the room’s chilled, sterile starship air. Remembering more things in fits and snatches... Spock walking her back to her quarters… why didn’t she just take the damned ka’athyra from him at the door? Of course he’d been in here before, for her lessons, just as she’d been in his quarters. They were colleagues and friends, had been for almost three years…

…that is, before the mind-blowing consensual sex they’d had the night before. She’d been drunk, but she remembered _that_.

Uhura looked around her bedroom. While she was by no means a messy woman, everything was precisely arranged. _Much_ more precisely than she’d ever arranged it. Including her neatly-folded uniform from the day before, creases sharp atop the only chair in the room.

Her eyes flitted from the bed, to the small sitting area visible from the doorway, to the counter next to the replicator, to the space right next to the door.

_Maybe I'm dreaming._

She pinched herself. When she didn’t wake up, she was mortified.

_Oh, God. That actually happened, didn’t it?_

_I slept with Spock._

_And we didn’t just_ sleep. _We..._

Stopping her futile train of thought cold, Uhura drained the glass of water, then picked up the hypo. It was a basic painkiller, one that all crew had in their quarters in case of headaches, muscle aches…

_Or post-coital soreness._

She pressed the hypo against her neck, hearing the soft hiss, feeling the sensation of the meds. Unbidden, other sensations came to mind. The uncanny warmth of his cheek under her lips as she told him he was "the best." The way he’d caught her eyes before he could turn to leave. The way their lips met, as if by mutual agreement. The fact that once they began kissing, they didn’t seem able to stop.

_“Your taste, Miss Uhura… I find it difficult to resist.”_

Uhura had felt the same. She couldn’t believe she was kissing him, the elusive half-Vulcan who sat next to her on the bridge daily. Sure, she was very attracted to him, had been since she’d met him during her Academy days, and especially since coming to work aboard the Enterprise. But he’d shut her down during the first year of the mission, during what had begun as a relatively boring routine medical mission to M-113.

_I’m an illogical woman who’s beginning to feel too much a part of that communications console._

Uhura had felt a bit stung at his rejection at first. After all, she was very feminine, and prided herself on being the total package -- brains, beauty, and poise. Spock had been the first who’d ever shut her flirting down cold. _Ever_. However, she was far too professional to let that affect her work. After all, he’d also rejected the beautiful Christine Chapel, the girl he’d once worked with on Omicron Ceti II, and every other woman (and some men) who threw themselves his way. His closest confidantes were the captain and Dr. McCoy.

Then, a year later, they learned that he had some _wife_ on Vulcan. Which explained a lot, come to think of it.

_She’s lovely, Mr. Spock. Who is she?_

Uhura had long ago dismissed the possibility of ever being with him. He was her mentor, in a sense… a fellow bridge officer with impeccable professionalism. Everyone followed his word as if he were the Captain himself. If he wasn’t as loved as Jim Kirk, he was certainly as respected.

And Uhura… well, she’d come to think of Spock as her friend. They’d spent so much time together over the past few years that last night had come as a complete shock. Never did he give her any indication that he regarded her as anything other than a fellow officer -- one who shared an appreciation for Vulcan language, culture, and music. Sure, she never completely rid herself of her crush, but considered it harmless. There was no outward indication of it. Spock seemed to let her apology for her behavior on the bridge that long-ago day stand (“there is no offense where none is taken, Miss Uhura”). All in all, they’d come to a nice equilibrium, where in addition to work, meals, and recreation, there were the weekly ka’athyra lessons.

Until the anomaly of a few days before, Uhura honestly believed that was all there would ever be between them.

_This is crazy. I need to get to breakfast. Alpha shift begins in an hour and fifteen minutes._

Letting the sheet drop, she walked into the tiny bathroom, intending to shower away her consternation.

That’s when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

_Sweet Lord! Is that what I think it is?_

In horror, she touched the spot on her collarbone.

It was indeed a love bite. And while Uhura was nobody’s maiden fair, she hadn’t had a _hickey_ since she was 17 years old.

As she turned back to the shower, she noticed another splotch of red on her mocha brown skin. There was another one of those love bites on her _shoulderblade._  She froze, surveying her body.

As she pressed each spot, she recalled exactly how each of those bites had gotten there. In addition to the three bites (one on her collarbone, one on her back and the third _on the inside of her thigh)_ , she had conspicuously finger-shaped dark bruises on either side of her hips.

_So I can’t go to the bridge today. I’ll die of embarrassment._

_I’ll call in sick. And apply for a transfer off ship…_

But of course, Kirk would want to know why, and he would need a good excuse. Otherwise, the captain would never agree to it.

And before her request even got to Kirk, protocol required all such personnel reports be submitted to the first officer.

_Breathe, girl. Just… breathe._

She took a deep breath, stopping herself from hyperventilating. Then she took another. And another. It was enough to get her into the shower.

Well, there was no going back to the way things were, Uhura told herself as she turned on the sonics. After all, she’d just woken up to an empty bed. Spock was long gone.

That meant this would be just a one-night stand. Fine. They were both adults. Healthy, attractive, red-and-green blooded _adults._

_What’s a little hot sex between friends?_

Never mind that it was the very best hot sex she’d ever had by _light years_. At least it would be a lasting memory once the mission was over and their lives went their separate ways. She would never forget that night... or him.

Turning so that the sonic blast touched every inch of her skin, she recalled every moment of their night together. Her hands traced her own curves, framing them. Something about the way he touched her made her feel… what was the word he used? _Irresistible_. She’d always been feminine, but she’d never felt as much of a woman as she did that morning.

But it wasn’t just the way that he made her feel that Uhura remembered. It was the way _he_ felt under her fingertips and hands. The way he lifted her as if she weighed no more than a PADD. The press of her kiss-swollen nipples against the hair of his chest. The indescribable glide of him, moving inside her with inhuman strength (he’d felt so damned _good_ ). The fact that once didn’t seem to be enough.

Or twice.

Or _three times..._

_Dear sweet Lord. I think he’s ruined me._

_Every human woman on this ship, more of the human men than will admit it, and more than a few of the other species have all fantasized about what just happened to me last night. Lord knows I’ve had my moments._

_But I didn’t think it’d be like that._

_I didn’t think_ he’d _be like that._

_I know it didn’t mean anything. I know that there’s nothing between us, that what happened was because of the spicewine, the chocolate, and not enough water to dilute the effects. We’re all exhausted from all this time in deep space, almost dying over and over again, and then…_

_And then we saw ourselves, younger, in a different time and place… in a different reality…_

_It’s enough to make anyone a little crazy._

_Of course, none of this can ever happen again, for the mission's sake. Which is a shame. If I could do that every night for the rest of my life, I’d be up for it… or at least, die trying to keep up with that Vulcan stamina of his._

Turning off the sonics, Uhura reached for her toothbrush, glancing at the rosy mark on her collarbone. She could cover it up with makeup, and no one would be any the wiser.

No one could play the consummate professional better than Lieutenant Uhura.

 

*

 

Uhura arrived at the mess hall in time for breakfast, where all the other alpha shift officers were groaning and complaining. The officers’ mess was closed for cleaning, so they would be taking the day’s meals with the rest of alpha shift…. with below decks none the wiser of what their superiors had gotten up to the night before.

 _At least our hangovers are better than the stress, tension, and anxiety we’ve all been feeling lately,_ she thought, going to the replicator and programming herself a simple breakfast of chai na mandazi. While most mornings she chose to have a healthier repast of porridge and fruit, something about deep-fried doughnuts sounded comforting. She always ordered it whenever she was having a rough time.

Picking up her tray, she found a place at the captain’s table, sliding into the seat next to Sulu.

“I don’t want to see another cup of sake as long as I live,” the helmsman was saying, holding his head in one hand as he sipped green tea from a cup held in the other. “I almost prefer the double shifts to the way my head feels right now… almost.”

“Well, I hope that you appreciate my generosity as your captain,” said Kirk. (Uhura noticed a distinctive red mark just below his chin.) “Now that officer morale’s been restored, we can put the past month behind us.”

“Crew morale might be restored, but crew hydration sure hasn’t,” snarked McCoy, sitting next to the captain with a mug of coffee. “Next time we throw a party, I’m keeping those liquor stores locked up. I’ve got a full Sickbay, and these hooligans have drained our stores dry!”

“Oh, I’m sure you did your fair share of the drinking, Bones,” laughed Kirk. “Get some rest. I’ll need your staff to pull off a miracle to manufacture enough of that cure for Elba II on time.”

“I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker,” McCoy snapped, standing back up grumpily, leaving the officers’ mess in a huff.

Scotty soon replaced him at the table, seeming more sober than the rest, but more sweaty than usual.

“What’s wrong, Scotty?”

“It’s the damned replicator in the officers’ mess, captain,” Scotty swore. “Gave out on us last night and I cannae repair it properly until we get to a starbase.”

“Sounds like a nonessential repair,” Kirk observed. “There’s nothing to worry about. We can just shut it down and direct off-duty officers to the other facilities.”

Uhura noted Scotty’s frown.

“Normally, it would be that simple, aye,” said the chief engineer slowly. “But that entire room… something happened to it during the anomaly. Some of the controls on the replicator _are not original to this ship.”_

That made everyone stop eating.

“Do you mean to tell me that... _anomaly_ isn’t over?” said Kirk, lowering his voice.

“I cannae know,” said Scotty. “I’ll run this by Mr. Spock when I see him next. It’s just the strangest thing.”

“It is, especially since I haven’t had any more hallucinations.” Kirk looked around the table. “Have any of you?”

All of them shook their heads. But Uhura’s heart sank.

 _Could that be an explanation for what happened last night? I know we weren’t exactly ourselves… but were we_ truly _not ourselves?_

As everyone cleared away their trays, Uhura’s mind wrapped around the continuation of the anomaly. No wonder things had gotten so strange yesterday. Perhaps the Spock she was with wasn’t _her_ Spock, not that her Spock was _hers…_ but that other Spock from the other universe, the one who apparently was with the other Uhura in his universe.

_What was different about that universe? Why did we end up together over there?_

_And who was in my bed last night?_

Suddenly, Uhura wanted to take another shower.

Of course, Kirk used that moment to interrupt her thoughts, pulling her aside.

“Uhura, have you seen Spock this morning?”

“No,” she said without thinking. Which was the truth.

“He never came back to the party,” Kirk observed. “I know it’s not really his scene, but he’d agreed to another chess match. It’s not like him to say he’ll do something and not do it.” He frowned a little. “Did he say where he was going after he took that harp of his to your room?”

“Not at all, sir.” Which was also the truth. Spock -- whichever Spock he was -- had left her without any word at all.

“Yeah, I bet he stumbled off to his quarters to sleep off that chocolate,” said Kirk, chuckling a bit. “That Christine… she’ll never give up, will she?”

Uhura didn’t say anything. She thought about her friendship with Chapel, and what her friend would think about what happened after the party.

_She’ll never know._

_No one will._

 

_*_

 

That was the beginning of the strangest day Uhura experienced since she first started her tour on the Enterprise.

When the turbolift opened with Kirk, Uhura, and Sulu, no one was surprised to see Spock already on the bridge, the first to arrive among the alpha shift, looking none the worse for wear. Kirk chuckled again, shaking his head as he took his chair and asked a bleary-eyed Chekov for their heading. Sulu relieved the tired looking gamma shift helmsman, stifling a yawn himself.

Uhura waved gratefully at M’Ress as she vacated the communications chair. The Caitian was new to the Enterprise, but she was fast becoming one of Uhura’s favorites. At Uhura’s greeting, M’Ress emitted a tired purr of farewell as she headed to the turbolift.

As Uhura sat down, she realized that Spock’s eyes were on her. She could see him regarding her out of the corner of her vision.

“Good morning, Commander,” she said easily. Her voice was its usual friendly, professional tone, although she rather felt as if someone had turned up the heat on the bridge.

_Just my imagination, once again, running away with me._

“And to you, Lieutenant.”

Uhura fumbled a little as she placed her earpiece in her ear. His greeting wasn’t enough to raise the suspicion of any of the others. In fact, if Uhura had been anyone else she wouldn’t have cared. But four words were much more than his usual curt nod or utterance of her title.

Even after she began to run her routine daily status reports, she could sense that he was looking at her from time to time.

 _It’s my imagination,_ she thought. _Stop this, Nyota Uhura, and stop this_ now. _You have a job to do, and goals to attain in due course._

_You’re not a silly little schoolgirl. You're a grown woman who's been around the block a time or two. Act like it._

But by lunchtime, Uhura _knew_ his eyes were on her, more than they had ever been. She could tell he was looking. Which would make sense if he was the other Spock, the one who clearly knew her counterpart well enough to slip into her bed after dark.

There were many things that confused her. If their Spock was really the other Spock, why did he seem so… so _normal_ in every other way? The Spock who’d taken over his body during the anomaly seemed almost taken aback by the changes in the ship. During his short time on the bridge, she’d noticed that the other Spock would hesitate ever so slightly, almost as if he was trying to figure out the workings of the science console. Clearly, his ship differed from theirs.

But today, Spock didn’t miss a beat. In all other things, he seemed to be _their_ Spock.

She didn’t understand. At all.

What she needed was a completely uneventful day, without any reason to notify him about anything. Unfortunately for her, about an hour before the lunch break, Uhura heard something odd in the subspace chatter. She rewound and listened. There it was again.

Normally, she wouldn’t have hesitated before speaking up. The second she heard anything that she or her subordinates wasn’t quite sure of, she would signal Spock to verify the status of any message with import for their mission. He was fluent in nearly as many Federation languages as she was, and had superior hearing thanks to his Vulcan DNA.

Instead of calling him over, she bit her lip.

“Is there something wrong, Miss Uhura?”

She looked up. Kirk was away from the bridge, so Spock had the conn, and was occupying the captain’s chair. She shook her head, avoiding his eyes.

“It’s probably nothing. Just a blip in the subspace chatter.”

Three seconds later, he was next to her chair and leaning toward the communications console. Instantly, Uhura was assaulted with his scent. _Sandalwood_ was the closest smell that she could associate with it, but she didn’t think Vulcans wore cologne.

And he was _warm_. She could feel his body heat, mere inches away…

Uhura pressed her legs firmly together as she felt her body’s reaction to his nearness. Flashing back to the feel of his body against hers...

 _No._ This would not do. It would not do _at all._

 _Nyota Upenda_   _Uhura. Stop this nonsense right now._

“May I?” he was asking.

“Of course, sir.” Being formal made her feel more secure.

Removing her earpiece, she handed it to him.

Their fingertips brushed.

It was a good thing that he had her earpiece well in hand, otherwise, it would have clattered to the floor. She dropped her hand limply by her side.

“Interesting,” was his verdict. “May I suggest that you have one of your technicians analyze this transmission in detail in the communications lab?”

“I should probably do it myself. None of them have my ears,” she replied. _Or yours,_ she thought. “Permission to go to the lab after lunch, sir.”

“You have never needed my permission to perform your duties before.”

Was that… a _smile?_ Either she was going mad, or the corners of his lips really did _twitch_ just then.

When he handed her back her earpiece, Uhura reached out to take just the tip of it. She was determined that she would _not_ touch him again.

But he didn’t give her that choice.

His hand covered hers as he dropped the earpiece back into her palm.

It was a good thing Uhura was sitting down. Although she didn’t sense anything in particular, the touch of his hand upon hers reminded her of just how heavenly his hands truly were.

As Spock returned to the captain’s chair, she glanced over her shoulder, then replaced her earpiece. Uhura knew then that they would need to have a conversation. Spock was an intensely private man, like most Vulcans. Perhaps he was worried that she’d gossip, and that was the explanation for his odd behavior. If so, he needn’t be afraid. She respected him, and would never compromise his position on the ship.

Uhura decided that she would ask to speak with him, and soon. And she’d tell him that all was forgotten. After all, what’s a one-night stand between friends? It would be their secret… one that she’d treasure and savor.

No one would ever know what happened but them.

 

*

 

Sure enough, when she returned to the bridge that afternoon from the communications lab, Spock asked to speak with her.

“Lieutenant Uhura, there is a discrepancy in your most recent report that I would like to speak with you about.”

“My apologies, sir,” she said without hesitation, meeting his eyes, looking up at him steadily. “Would you like to speak about this now or later?”

“After shift is sufficient. We can speak in my quarters.”

 _His quarters._ Uhura’s face grew warm as she sat down. Again, she knew she was being rather silly; she’d certainly been to Spock’s quarters many times over the past couple of years, especially since her lessons had begun. Of course, he was going to explain to her exactly what happened, and his explanation would be perfectly rational. They would come to an understanding about it, and that would be that.

Uhura knew full well what was coming after shift. But irrationally, she spent the rest of the afternoon fantasizing about what she now _knew_ was beneath those science blues.. wishing that it could be something more.

But this was the real world, not some silly fantasy.

Or some anomaly of an alternate past that never happened.

 

*

 

They were alone in the turbolift. It took Uhura longer than she’d thought to upload the lab’s analysis into the console so that the universal translator could recognize the subspace chatter she’d found that morning. She could have waited for the automated systems update, but she wanted to ensure that it was there for Palmer during beta shift just in case any more of the strange chatter re-emerged.

By the time she was done, Lieutenant Palmer was hovering and the only other alpha shift officer who remained on the bridge was Spock.

She placed her earpiece back, and relinquished the chair. Palmer was already updated on the chatter, and knew what to look for, so there was no reason for her to linger…

“Lieutenant.”

Spock was standing at the turbolift. There had been nothing to do except follow him inside.

In the turbolift, neither spoke at first. Uhura felt her anxiety levels rise as the doors closed.

“Shift was pretty quiet,” she said, breaking the tense silence. Much as she knew Spock disliked small talk, she couldn’t bear the silence that stretched between them just then. It made the few feet they stood apart feel like a chasm.

“It was uneventful,” he agreed. “Although given the extraordinary nature of the past month, I found it quite welcome.”

Uhura was stunned. Not only had he humored her small talk, he had even made a small… _joke?_

Before she could ask him if the Enterprise looked strange to him, or if he’d been eating any more of Chapel’s chocolates, he continued.

“The error in yesterday’s communications report was not yours, but that of Lieutenant M’Ress. It is quite minor, and it is not something that you could have known about without also correlating it with my science report. I have already made the necessary annotations.”

“Then why…”

“There are other matters that I wish to speak of, Miss Uhura.”

“Of course,” she replied.

_This is it. The talk._

They exit the turbolift at the deck where his quarters were. No one paid much attention to them, save for a couple nods. Spock walked with his hands clasped behind his back. Uhura’s swung by her sides with a casual air she simply didn’t feel.

Spock keyed in his elaborate code, fingers flying over the pad. The door swooshed open, and at the sound, all the air evaporated from Uhura’s lungs.

_This is it._

He gestured for her to go inside, and she did. Warm air caressed her skin, a welcome contrast from the cooler corridor. She glanced at the nearest chair, thinking that he’d probably invite her to sit down… he’d been around humans long enough to know the proprieties.

She heard his footsteps behind her, and the closing swish of the door.

_This is it._

“Computer, lock door,” he said firmly.

She took a deep breath, summoning her courage. “Mr. Spock, I know what this is about, and I just want you to know, you don't have to…”

Before she could turn around, or say anything else, his arms closed around her. One moment, she was surrounded by the warm air of his quarters, and the next, she was surrounded by one warm Vulcan.

His face found the place where her neck met her shoulder… was he... _nuzzling_ … her?

“Mr. Spock?” She was more than a bit startled, but she didn’t push him away, either. “Are you well?”

Then she blinked, because there were thoughts in her head that were not her own. She felt _relief, exhaustion, lingering effects of…_ chocolate?...

_And desire._

That was the only name she could conjure up for the foreign emotion that flooded her senses, overwhelming her. It was a kind of desire that was not like hers. Hers always felt like a flood, as if she was drowning.

But this? This felt like _fire_. And she was slowly being consumed.

It was a sensation she remembered from less than twenty-four hours before.

_You give me fever._

He pulled back from her shoulder, keeping her in his arms, turning her so that she faced him.

“You have not been absent my thoughts since I left your quarters,” he confessed to her. “Your proximity on the bridge today tested my control."

“Wait. Have you had more chocolate?” But the moment the words leave her lips, she knew he hadn’t. He seemed… different, but lucid. “Does the ship look strange to you? Are you m…”

She wouldn’t say it. The question _are you my Spock_ would sound ridiculous in any context imaginable. Unfortunately, she’d thought it, and she was being held by a touch telepath.

“I am.”

 _Yes, I am your Spock._ She heard it in her mind, as clearly as if he’d spoken it aloud.

“I… I don’t understand,” she stammered.

“I am aware.” He lifted her chin gently with two fingers, and his touch left her shivering despite the dry heat of his quarters. “It is difficult for me to explain in words. Will you consent to a light meld?”

There was something in his voice that she couldn’t quite pinpoint. There was no inflection, and no expression other than the burning in his eyes, but it was if he was unsure what her answer would be… and Uhura couldn’t imagine Spock being unsure about anything.

The one thing that she knew was that Spock wouldn’t hurt her. By this point in the mission, all of the senior officers were quite used to Spock’s differences and abilities, for his skills as a touch telepath had saved many a landing party. Despite her confusion, Uhura felt absolutely comfortable with him… if not more than a bit curious.

She nodded.

What she saw startled her to her core. He drew her into his mind without preamble, showing her how he regarded her in his well-ordered thoughts. She saw herself in his memories, a young cadet eight years before, waiting to meet the famous second-in-command of the USS Enterprise.

Uhura saw herself through his eyes. _Beautiful, so utterly radiant._ She saw how she filled his senses at first meeting, how her face and form and scent lingered for many months after, requiring a great deal of meditation. She witnessed how he followed her time at the Academy, read her published papers.

The next set of memories were even more shocking. She saw that upon her arrival on the Enterprise, he’d experienced shon-ha'-lock, a Vulcan word she didn’t quite know the meaning of, only that it frightened him… especially when he was promised to another.

She saw the long nights of meditation to subsume everything he felt for her, which had been successful. She saw the initial confusing feelings replaced with genuine friendship, and a certain preference for her company along with that of the captain and the doctor. She saw that after his meditation, he’d no longer harbored any feelings for her beyond the regard one colleague would feel for another.

Or so he had thought.

Then she saw how he’d felt during the anomaly, when he’d awakened… to _her…_ or at least her counterpart… on another Enterprise. She saw the face of the other Uhura, younger, her facial features slightly different, but very like what she herself had been like years before.

When he first met her.

When she was a student at the academy.

She watched as the other Uhura stared at him with expectation, then disappointment as she realized that no matter what he looked like, he really wasn’t _her_ Spock.

Then she saw herself, two days ago, after the anomaly was over, and he was back on their Enterprise…

Watching her.

Thinking about her, all that had passed between them, and all the things that he’d seen and knew.

Engulfment anew.

Startled, she tugged at the connection until he released her. She took two steps back, dark brown eyes awash with tears.

“But you haven’t had a girlfriend since… and you were betrothed, no, _married_ to that girl on Vulcan who… oh, Mr. Spock, I don’t understand any of this at all! Yes, I sensed something, three years ago. I thought that perhaps I had a chance. But then all those times, early on, when I first came aboard the ship, you shut me down! All those times when I made my interest known…”

“…occurred before my bond with T’Pring was terminated,” he pointed out, remembering how the sound of her voice in his quarters during his Time had driven him to madness. “I have desired you from the first, ashayam. I thought it impossible, that I did not need as other Vulcans and men did, but it is logical. You belong with me."

_Ashayam means beloved in Vulcan. Is he kidding me? A day ago, we were sitting around the table in the captain’s ready room, planning that party. A month ago, we had our last lesson, right in these rooms…_

Uhura’s heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest.

“It is impossible,” she said, very quietly. “Mr. Spock, we are both senior officers. You are my superior on this ship. I am the _only_ woman among the bridge staff. We _cannot_ date each other.”

“Vulcans do not ‘date.’”

“You know what I mean! We can’t be together in any way, shape or form!”

He closed the distance between them again. “It is not against regulation. You do not report to me, but to the Captain. As do I.” His fingers began to trace the delicate curves of her face. “I only awaited another sign of your interest, which came last night when you invited me into your quarters and kissed me…"

“On the cheek,” she whispered, now trembling.

“That is merely where you began, ashal-veh. It is assuredly not the final place your lips landed on my person.” His dark eyes continued to study her face. “I wish to repeat the experience.”

“I’m sure you do, Mister, especially now that I’ve seen what’s in that brain of yours! But you just said Vulcans don’t do casual relationships! Isn’t that what you told Christine?”

 _Just like you told me Vulcan has no moon_ , she thought ruefully.

“We do not. Vulcan’s sister planet, T’Khut illuminates our night sky.”

“You could have just told me that!” _Or that I was an attractive young lady. Especially since you thought so._

“It is illogical to state the obvious.”

Somehow, having him in her thoughts felt more intimate than everything else they’d done. She moved to push away his hand from her face so she could think.

But the moment her hand touched his, she didn’t want to let him go.

“Are you influencing me?” she snapped, a little peevishly. “That’s not fair.”

His fingers twined with hers. “If you do not wish to be here, I will not stop you from leaving.”

She stared into his eyes. “Now, I didn’t say _that.”_ Her free hand came up to caress the nape of his neck, as if of its own accord. “What am I supposed to do with what you’ve just told me? Because there’s nothing ‘logical’ about any of this, Mr. Spock. You just spring this on me, and expect me to just…”

Uhura’s senses were suddenly flooded. Overwhelmed, almost as if she had been KO’ed by a tidal wave... no, a volcanic lava flow. It took a moment for her to realize they were kissing. Or rather, that he’d answered her question by kissing the very breath out of her.

_This is how everything began last night._

_My God, he can kiss! He could kiss me forever and I wouldn’t complain._

Uhura felt her knees give way, and strong arms effortlessly sweep her off her feet… all without breaking mouth-to-mouth contact. To keep her balance, her arms wrapped around his neck. Her brain was simply not computing what was happening.

When he finally drew back from her mouth, she was perched on his desk. She laid a hand on his chest, still trying to steady herself.

She could still feel the heady sensation of his tongue in her mouth.

_Oh, dear sweet Lord… I may not survive this._

“Mr. Spock, I…”

“When we are private, I would find it most gratifying if you called me Spock.”

“Spock.” She looked up at him from beneath long lashes, feeling the heat of his gaze. “Then you must call me Nyota.”

Few in Starfleet ever used her first name. To Uhura, Nyota was the girl she’d left behind in Kenya. Uhura was her professional identity, and even her classmates at the Academy called her that. Save for her closest friends on the ship (Christine Chapel, Janice Rand, and Charlene Masters), all others on the Enterprise called her Lieutenant Uhura or Miss Uhura, _never_ Nyota… certainly she'd never invited any other man to call her by her given name before...

“Nyota.” In his deep baritone, it sounded like a caress. “I want to kiss you again.”

She smirked at him. “Last time I checked, _want_ was an emotion, Spock.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, stepping between her parted legs. “Perhaps we should investigate this curious phenomenon of ‘want’ together.”

“Perhaps we should,” she whispered back, gasping as he bent down and his mouth found her neck.

 

*

 

Soon, his mouth found many other places to investigate.

Twenty minutes later, Uhura was writhing bare atop his bed, his dark head between her thighs as he approached the final destination of his exploration of her body.

He’d kissed her from head to toe, and halfway back again, his hands and lips igniting her flesh as his impossibly dark eyes memorized every detail of her features... and every iota of her response.

 _This is how the madness last night began,_ she thought wildly.

But her mouth could only utter endearments and curses and an endless chorus of _ndiyo_ to the incomprehensibly _blissful_ feeling of his mouth bringing her to the edge of completion. Tears streamed from her eyes as her fingers tangled in his hair.

 _His tongue flicking against my… everything he’s doing with those incredibly hot lips… nibbling with his_ teeth _… and…_

Uhura had no warning. One minute she was being tortured by the fire he’d kindled, the next she was a shooting star, burning through a Class M planetary stratosphere. Coming back to reality, she felt the the curl of his lips around her clit, and the glide of his fingers deep within, seeking the source of her pleasure.

He did not relent, but continued his assault, as if he were starving and she was the only feast he’d ever wanted. She felt herself ignite again, back arching from the bed, screaming his name hoarsely into the warm, dark room as he brought her to completion a second time.

She felt him withdraw, then sink his teeth gently into her unmarked thigh as she rode his fingers to another shuddering climax. More pressure than pain, which seemed to draw out her high.

Boneless and sated, she sighed softly as he lifted his head and stared down at her complacently. Uhura wasn’t fooled by that mask of Vulcan calm. She knew what he looked like when he was utterly satisfied with himself; it was written all over his face.

“Don’t look so damned _smug,_ Spock,” she panted. “That’s yet _another_ emotion.”

“On the contrary, I am simply gratified that I have pleased you… yet again.”

She shook her head at his raised eyebrow. “What am I ever going to do with you?”

“That remains to be seen. Nonetheless, I have a myriad number of... _theories..._ that I would like to test. That is, if you are amenable.”

With his hair all over the place, his five o’clock shadow, the viridescent flush of his pale skin, the telltale evidence of her bliss glistening from his lips, cheeks, and chin, he looked like pure sin. Like the devil she’d named him in her long-ago song, like the green-blooded hobgoblin the good doctor always swore he was. She shuddered again, reveling in the moment, sizzling beneath the blackness of his gaze, reaching out a hand to run her fingers through the hair on his chest, opening her legs again in silent invitation.

 _Yes,_ she thought as he entered her, filling her completely until she was gasping and moaning, pressing her fingernails into his back, an incoherent chorus of  _yes yes yes yes yesssssssss_!!! ringing through her mind.

Even as her body welcomed him greedily, deep down, Uhura knew she had to make Spock see sense. There was no future for them, but she'd enjoy this as long as it lasted.

Because like that old song said, he gave her _fever_.

And  _ohhhhh_ , what a lovely way to burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She thinks of him as fire; he thinks of her as water. You'll see this recur throughout the chapters as the POVs alternate.
> 
> Next up: a short chapter from the crew's POV, then it's Spock's turn again.
> 
> Thanks to Jades and AdelphaHighbrow for their comments!


	3. After the Dance (Instrumental)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll! Still no beta, still enjoying this fever dream of a fic.
> 
> This is one of two ensemble chapters; they match the interludes on Marvin's I Want You album. In these, we take a detour from the main storyline, and look at what's going on among the rest of the crew while S/U are... working things out between the two of them.
> 
> (Each time I post an ensemble chapter, I'll try to update the next Spock or Uhura POV within a day. Already done writing Chapter 4, "Feel All My Love Inside." It's Spock's POV, and I'll probably post it overnight or tomorrow, but I need to re-read and turn up the heat in a couple of scenes. If you're at all familiar with that song, you know I have to make sure my M/E writing game is on point, lol. :-))

 

“Where is Uhura? Has anyone seen her?” Nurse Christine Chapel asked at dinner that night. She was sitting with the captain, Yeoman Janice Rand, and Dr. Leonard McCoy in the overcrowded mess hall. Everyone from alpha shift was there, and every seat was taken. Compared to the officers’ mess, it was most unpleasant.

But there was no sign of her friend.

“Beats me,” Kirk told her with a wide grin as he scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes, although there was nothing amusing about her question. (Chapel wondered what Rand was doing under the table next to him. She’d have to have a word with her friend. No good could come of an entanglement with the captain, who was a notorious ladykiller.)

“Haven’t seen her since shift ended,” Rand said, suppressing a smile of her own.

“Probably somewhere sleeping off all that spicewine,” drawled McCoy. "Dollface could never handle her liquor.”

Chapel scoffed at that. “As many stories as she’s told us about all the changa’a that her brother made and hid from their parents? I don’t buy a word of it. Besides, she left the party early, remember? She was with Mr. Spock.”

Kirk shrugged. “Spock’s never been the life of the party… and before you say it, Nurse Chapel, you really shouldn’t have given him that chocolate. He wasn’t himself today. I could tell.”

Chapel glared at Rand, who looked pityingly at her. Some friend, she thought. Besides, it hadn’t had the effect she’d hoped. Sure, the chocolate had loosened Spock up a bit. But he’d just wandered off to bed after all.

It was _not_ the evening she’d hoped for. Perhaps she should bury her torch once and for all. As Uhura was always telling her, Spock was clearly one of those “look but don’t touch” guys. Every ship in the ‘Fleet had at least one.

Such a pity, though. All that tall, lean gorgeousness going to waste.

Suddenly, Chekov came skidding to a stop at their table. “Excuse me, eweryone, but have you seen Mr. Spock anyvere?”

“Not this evening, no,” said McCoy, waving a replicated breadstick for emphasis, “but you know Spock. He probably used up his weekly quota for human interaction last night.”

“I need to apologize,” Chekov pressed on, too breathless to heed McCoy’s joke. “It seems that the Saurian brandy I bought at the last starbase… was actually flavored vith a chocolate dewivative.”

That silenced the table. Kirk and Spock had finished more than one bottle of that brandy.

“I knew there was something odd about it,” said the captain. “I don’t care for Saurian brandy that much. Next time, Chekov, you need to read the label more carefully.”

“Yes sir. Sorry, sir.”

Everyone tried to remember whether Spock had seemed at all affected. But since they had all been inebriated themselves, and he hadn’t said or done anything of note after the chess match, it was impossible to remember.

No one connected the coinciding disappearances of the senior communications officer and the First Officer at all.

 

*

 

Kirk retreated to his quarters that night feeling that something was amiss on his ship.

The captain realized that most of the senior officers regarded him as the authority, the brass, and the brawn on the Enterprise, while Spock was the brain. Well, Jim Kirk graduated at the top of his Academy class. He always found himself slightly amused at this, since he counted Spock as one of his two best friends on the ship, and Spock would never work for, let alone befriend, a stupid man.

Captain James Tiberius Kirk had a brain, too.

Spock had been odd since the anomaly. Kirk couldn’t pinpoint it, but he knew that something had happened on the other Enterprise that had him preoccupied. To be sure, he had been just as efficient as before, and exacting, and just... _Spock_ over the past few days _,_ but Kirk knew something was up.

For one thing, it was unlike Spock to miss all three meals of the day in the mess. When he didn’t see him at breakfast, Kirk thought nothing of it. But he’d excused himself from lunch, and never showed up at dinner.

 _Strange,_ thought Kirk. _Hope he’s not coming down with something. At least we’ve got M’Benga on board. Half the reason I lobbied for him to join us on the Enterprise was because we needed someone with knowledge of Vulcan anatomy here. Bones is great, but I needed to ensure nothing happens to Spock…_

 _Nothing_ else _, that is._

He frowned, wondering what it was that he was missing. Maybe he should just comm Spock. Other than the party, they hadn’t had much time to chat outside of their duties, given everything the Enterprise had just been through.

Being a captain was often lonely. Kirk found that he missed his friend.

That’s when the next odd thing happened.

Spock didn’t answer his comm.

_Twice._

Now, there was nothing wrong with this. Technically, he was off duty. Things had been trying for them all lately, and his first officer deserved a break.

But Spock had _always_ been a comm call away. He never missed a signal.

That is, if he wasn’t ill or dying.

_He’d say I’m being illogical._

Laughing to himself, Kirk walked to his replicator to make himself a cup of coffee before he recorded the day’s captain’s log. But he couldn’t help but comm Bones, just to ensure there really _wasn’t_ something going on.

Bones answered right away, turning on the visual. He was in his quarters, wearing his regulation Starfleet t-shirt, matching boxers, and nothing else. Not exactly a sight for sore eyes, Kirk thought.

“What is it, Jim?”

“Sorry to disturb you, Bones. You know I wouldn’t comm this time of night if it wasn’t important. Have you seen Spock this evening?”

“No, I haven’t.” A yawn split Bones’ head nearly in two. The effect was comical. “He didn’t come to your quarters after dinner? I thought he usually does.”

“I know. It’s just… strange.” Kirk frowned at the screen. “Have you noticed anything funny about Spock since the anomaly with that strange version of the Enterprise?”

“No, I haven’t.” Bones shrugged. “He seems like the same superior, stubborn Vulcan to me. I was glad he came to the officers’ party, though… but you know, maybe he gave Uhura a harp lesson tonight. He’s been teaching her to play that thing. I’d forgotten until I saw her yesterday.”

“That’s right.” Kirk had forgotten, too. There were so many details, so many interpersonal relationships to remember among the crew.

“As long as he shows up at poker night tomorrow, I wouldn’t worry about it,” suggested Bones. “I’ve got a score to settle with Mr. Pointy Ears after he cleaned me out last time.”

Kirk laughed. “It’s almost not fair playing against him, is it?”

“Sure. But you know Spock. He is who he is. Can’t help it, any more than we can help who we are.” Pause. “And you better not tell ‘im I said that, Jim.”

The captain chuckled again. “Sure thing. ‘Night, Bones.”

“Night, Jim.”

Kirk disconnected the call, feeling a bit better. Next to Spock, Leonard McCoy was his other good friend on the ship. Spock and Bones were like oil and water, but Kirk knew that they held each other in the highest regard all the same.

Now, Kirk didn’t have nearly as many close women friends, if any at all. He couldn’t help that his natural charm and good looks made the ladies want more from him than friendship. The only exceptions to that rule were Uhura and Chapel, who were both stuck on Spock… something that Kirk would _never_ understand.

While he didn’t interact with Christine Chapel as much, Kirk had come to regard Lieutenant Uhura as a friend. He readily admitted that she was one hell of a woman. Pretty, dark skinned, and as dainty as could be, she ran the communications department like a well-oiled machine. Not even Scotty had his people as well in hand as she had hers (although he knew the chief engineer would say in his defense that engineers are a rebellious lot).

Considered the most promising recruit from her Starfleet Academy class, Kirk considered it a huge coup to have gotten Uhura on board the Enterprise… the Federation was clamoring to give her a top dirtside post in xenocultures, but her heart was in deep space.

Uhura’s presence changed the bridge for the better. During his initial months as captain of the Enterprise, the promotion and departure of Number One made for an all boys’ crew. Kirk never minded the fraternal nature of the ‘Fleet, but he felt it was good to have women among his senior staff. They were just as intelligent as the men and at times possessed superior insight.

Kirk considered Uhura a friend. He liked and respected her. They’d gotten pretty close lately. Word had reached him about how affected she was when she saw him trapped in interspace. After their run-in with the Platonians, he spoke with her when she acted strangely around him.

_“Lieutenant Uhura, I apologize if… what happened on the planet caused you any distress. I want you to know that you have my respect, and I would never do anything so forward.”_

_She’d smiled. “Thank you, Captain. We were under the influence of those awful Platonians. They made us do all those humiliating things. I’m just glad that it wasn’t worse.”_

_He returned her smile. “Me too. Hopefully that will be the last time we run into anything like that.”_

_“Doubtful, sir,” she’d replied, winking at him._

That was just a shift before they ran straight into the problem with the Scalosians.

One thing that Kirk _had_ noticed was that every time he complimented her to Spock, his first officer seemed noncommital.

_“We’re lucky to have Uhura aboard,” he said to Spock once after a timely translation and Universal Translator update smoothed over a rough negotiation in the Ceti Alpha system, saving their skins. “She’s good.”_

_“Yes, I suppose she is adequate for a communications officer,” was his friend’s flat reply._

Since Uhura had come aboard, Spock had never complimented her in Kirk’s hearing -- the only senior officer whom he had not verbally commended in his inimitably understated Vulcan way.

His written reports were another matter. Whenever Spock wrote about her in his annual crew evaluations that would be sent to Command, he would go on at length about Uhura’s merits. _Unparalleled. Singular. Commendable._ And once, this past year in one of the internal evaluations sent only to the captain, her work had garnered a mind-blowing _extraordinary_ rating from his first officer.

Vulcans. Who could understand them?

Making a decision, he decided to comm her. Kirk hated to interrupt Uhura if she was in the midst of her lessons. But she never minded his inquiries, and if Spock were there with her, he’d just ask her to have him come by his quarters once they were done.

But she didn’t answer. He tried twice, and…

Nothing at all.

Kirk was annoyed. This was not like either of them. It was only 2100 hours. Even if they were off duty, they were senior officers and department heads. Spock was his second in command. He couldn't condone them ignoring the captain's calls.

Then he was worried. What if something was wrong? It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

Now, Kirk wasn’t the kind of captain who liked to violate his crew’s privacy. But he needed to know if they were all right.

He sat down in front of his console.

“Computer,” he said, “locate Lieutenant Uhura.”

A flapping sound indicated that the machine was searching. _“Working.”_

He waited.

_“Lieutenant Uhura is in the first officer’s quarters.”_

“Is she? Then where is Spock?” he asked.

More flapping and clacking.

_“Commander Spock is in the first officer’s quarters.”_

That explained it. No doubt the ever-critical Spock was determined to correct all the flaws he found in Uhura’s lute playing the night before, and was drilling her in his rooms. Chuckling to himself, he decided to tease them both about it the next day.

The door chime sounded.

“Come in,” he said. It was Yeoman Rand, walking in with a tumbler and a tall bottle of Romulan ale on a tray.

“Janice, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Kirk said, as the door closed behind her.

She beamed. “Thanks, captain. With everything that’s happened since I returned, I never got the chance to tell you how great it is to be back on board. I’ve missed the Enterprise.”

“And the Enterprise missed you, yeoman. Glad we’ve had you back home these past few months. Here, sit, join me.”

Rand bit her lip. “Are you sure, sir?”

“Of course I’m sure.” He rose, pulling the other chair in his living area closer to the table. “Relax, have a drink with me.”

“If you think it’s… appropriate,” she said, seeming unsure.

Something unspoken passed between them. Something that neither would talk about. For the sake of crew morale, regulation, and everything else in between.

Kirk’s hand was on the small of her back as he guided her into the chair. “Of course it is. Come, tell me all about your travels.”

As they talked, Kirk forgot all else save for the ale for a while.

Which happened to be the same color as the good yeoman's eyes.

 

*

 

“I cannae make heads nor tails of this,” Scotty grunted with frustration. “Here, lass, have another look.”

He slid from under the replicator in the main mess hall. It had been fine that morning, but by the end of the alpha shift’s dinner period, it too had malfunctioned. Once again, the regular repair teams were useless, and Engineering had been called. Five of his best engineers had tried to fix the damn thing, then called the sciences division. Lieutenant Charlene Masters, a physicist specializing in thermodynamics and quantum mechanics who split her time between Engineering and Science, had gone to the mess.

Scotty was frustrated. He doubted that he’d be able to fix it in time for beta shift’s dinner break. That would cause friction. Alpha shift was the best, with the captain, most of the senior officers, NCOs, and crew assigned to it. The beta and gamma shifts were always complaining about receiving lesser treatment... complaints that the XO dismissed, and even reprimanded at times. Yet Captain Kirk was always thinking about ways to boost beta and gamma morale.

He winced at the thought of having to tell the captain that the evening and overnight shifts would have to subsist on food cubes.

With a steady hand, Scotty helped Masters slide beneath the console on her stomach, trying not to stare as her blue science dress lifted, nearly revealing her panties.

Scotty placed a hand to his head, mopping the sweat he found there.

“I can’t reach that board either, Mr. Scott, but I doubt removing it would help,” she sighed, sliding back out and dusting off her hands on the skirt of her uniform. “And you say this is the same unauthorized modification you found in the officers’ mess?”

“Aye,” said Scotty. “I’ll advise the captain to turn the rec rooms into temporary mess, but if the other replicators modify parts like this, we’re in real trouble.”

She nodded. “Have you reported this to Mr. Spock?”

“Just the officers’ mess malfunction. He assigned a work crew to it right away, and said he’d check their progress tomorrow.” The chief engineer was frustrated. “He’s not gonna like this. And neither will the captain.”

“It’s not your fault, Mr. Scott,” Masters said practically. “It’s just something that happened. They can’t expect Engineering to work miracles every time the ship goes through something, especially when we’re overdue to dock at a starbase.”

He grinned at her. “Thank you, lass.”

“Everyone should be thanking _you._ After all, you’re the genius whose patches and innovations save our asses… and ensure this ship doesn’t fall apart.”

Scotty was floored. Masters was a former professor at one of the top Earth universities. She was one smart cookie.

And she’d just called him a genius. Him. Montgomery Scott.

“Well, I need to get back to Engineering,” he said, feeling reluctant to leave. “I could perhaps… walk you back to your quarters on the way.”

To that, Masters laughed, a pleasant enough sound. She really was quite the becoming lass.

“I had planned to swing by one of the rec rooms for a while,” she told him. “But maybe I’ll come down to Engineering. Word around the ship has it that _someone_ down there makes the very best nightcaps in the quadrant.”

And despite the mounting problem, Scotty decided that it had been a good evening after all.

 

*

 

M’Benga loved working gamma shift. While CMO McCoy had the problems of the day, and Head of Nursing Chapel dealt with all the aches and pains of the evening, M’Benga’s time was the night. Other than the occasional emergency, being on call during the quietest hours of the ship was sheer bliss.

The quiet reminded him of Vulcan.

 _Vulcan._ M’Benga had loved the planet from the first. As a child, he’d admired everything about it -- the landscape, not unlike the deserts of Earth, albeit ever redder, with stranger skies. The flora and fauna, most of which could kill most Terran species.

But M’Benga found that he had an affinity with the Vulcan people.

The letter rejecting him from the Vulcan Science Academy was perhaps the nicest missive he’d ever received. Fluent in Vulcan from his secondary school days, he could read between the lines. He realized that the rejection stemmed not from his lack of ability as a human, but their lack of ability to understand that a human would be contented living on their planet and following their customs.

After graduating from Starfleet, his medical school application was also rejected. No matter. He sought medical training anyway, volunteering at the Vulcan embassy in San Francisco when and where he could. The staff considered him a curiosity, but indulged him anyway.

Happy was the day when his residency application was accepted. Of course, one of his letters of recommendation had come from Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan himself.

He’d spent three and a half pleasant years on Vulcan. They were some of the best of his life. He was adopted by a host family, as Vulcans were not accustomed to the visits of outworlders, and did not have the same concept of a “hospitality industry” that other Federation members had. Most of his time was spent working at the hospital at ShiKahr, learning all that he could from the healers… at least, those willing to teach him.

Some were offended that a psi-null human would come to work among them, even suspicious of his motives. Others lived the IDIC, and taught him, but it took even those who were amenable to his presence a while to open up.

To his great disappointment, once his residency was over, he was not offered a permanent position at the hospital. His mentor, Soran, acted as if this was completely logical.

_“Soran, you know that I am the best of my class.”_

_“All the same, you cannot perform the same functions as a Vulcan healer. You have no telepathic ability, few humans visit Vulcan, and even fewer live here. It would be illogical to retain you here.”_

It was humiliating and disappointing, especially after he’d worked so hard.

M’Benga picked up the pieces of his career, and returned to Starfleet, who was happy to have him. He worked at the Academy for a while, until the captain of the most famousstarship in the 'Fleet called.

He’d never forget the first subspace call with Kirk.

 _“My first officer is Vulcan,” he’d said. “Well, his mother is human, but he’s a hybrid, and as such, he’s mostly Vulcan. I need someone on my medical staff qualified to treat him, but those damned… those_ Vulcans _say that a healer cannot be spared.”_

_M’Benga nodded. “All of Starfleet knows Commander Spock. I gather he’s quite a valuable officer.”_

_“Priceless,” said Kirk without hesitation. “There are a few young Vulcans at the Academy interested in joining our Sciences division thanks to Spock. The first of many, I would suspect. I hope you consider my offer of a commission, Dr. M'Benga.”_

_“There’s nothing to consider, captain,” M’Benga told him. “Let me know where to show up to sign on the dotted line.”_

When he first joined the _Enterprise_ crew, M’Benga had imagined that he would get along with Mr. Spock very well. After all, in adulthood, many of his close friends were Vulcan. He even spoke the language with a degree of proficiency that most deemed “adequate.” (Secretly, he was hoping to be declared “satisfactory” someday.)

But it was not to be.

Spock was _far_ more difficult to impress than his father, Sarek, was. It made little sense. Sarek was a Vulcan’s Vulcan, from the clan of Surak himself, and yet M’Benga greatly enjoyed his company. Sarek was proud, even arrogant, but he had a diplomat’s personality and even a sense of humor. (M’Benga knew not to point this out, lest Sarek be insulted.)

His son was a different matter altogether. M’Benga found him to be one cool customer. Spock did things by the book and was rather cheerless.

When he first boarded the ship, he tried to converse with Spock in Vulcan. Unfortunately, the Commander was not amused. He raised an eyebrow in response to M'Benga giving the salute and the traditional greeting, _dif-tor heh smusma_ (live long and prosper). M’Benga thought this meant that he should proceed in the ShiKahr Vulcan dialect...

“I am proficient in Federation Standard, doctor,” was Spock’s dry response. “In the future, I would suggest that you use it.”

So much for friendship with the Vulcan on board.

He’d formed other friendships, though. The Enterprise really was the happening place to be for long tours of duty despite the unknown dangers of deep space. The crew was young, convivial, and endlessly ambitious.

And M’Benga’s favorite crewmember of them all was Lieutenant Nyota Uhura.

Nyota _. Star_. He had no idea why she didn’t use her first name. Everyone except for a few of the girls she socialized with most invariably called her Uhura.

Uhura was one of the loveliest women aboard the ship, inside and out. There wasn’t a crewmember whose name she did not know, and while she had a reputation for being no-nonsense, she also had a dazzling, disarming smile.

M'Benga loved to converse with her. In Swahili and Vulcan. She was the only person aboard the ship who spoke both languages.

Once, during their last shore leave, they’d ended up running into each other while she was shopping and he was searching for something to send his mother. They ended up chatting, then bonding over the world’s worst plates of ugali from a local vendor, promising each other that they would secure the ingredients for a proper one and have dinner aboard the ship sometime soon.

M’Benga hadn’t had such a huge crush on a girl since he was in the sixth form back home in Uganda.

He planned to ask her out. There was no rule about fraternization on Starfleet ships, except where partners would have to report to one another. There were several married couples on board the Enterprise, two of whom the captain had married himself. And as with all long missions, there were various relationships, affairs, and intrigues, especially below decks.

Yet the senior officers seemed to hold themselves apart from all that. Sure, the captain had a reputation as a bit of a ladies’ man, but from all accounts, he never dated anyone aboard his ship. His boss, McCoy, had gone through a bitter divorce, although M’Benga suspected that his supervisor's beloved daughter Joanna kept him from being a total misogynist. Nurse Chapel’s failed engagement was common knowledge around the ship, as was her unrequited flame for Mr. Spock. The helmsman Sulu had a family dirtside, and young Chekov was dating an even younger Russian ensign. And Spock... everyone on board knew the XO was little better than a monk.

But the pretty Lieutenant bewildered him. M'Benga couldn’t understand how such a fine woman ended up in her early 30s and _single_. It was a shame and a waste in his opinion. Although he hadn’t known her at the Academy, they had several friends in common, and to a man, the men praised Uhura… with a caveat.

“Uhura, Uhura! Now, that’s one beautiful lady,” one told him over drinks the year before. “Legs for days and days! But man, is she ever serious! All work and no play. A real stickler.”

“Yeah, but that kind of woman is sexy in her own way,” said another. “Like a naughty schoolmarm… imagine her ordering you around the bedroom...”

“Oh, yeah. She can ‘take command’ of me anytime!”

And the two men slapped palms.

M’Benga just shook his head at his friends’ antics. Much as it bothered him to hear him talk about _his_ girl like that, it just confirmed his suspicions about Uhura. Did she even _like_ men? That Universal Translator sure couldn’t keep her warm at night!

But seeing her at a few parties shed light on things. M’Benga noted that she was as fun and vivacious as she was smart and pretty, with a wicked sense of humor. He loved hearing her laughter across a crowded room.

Including last night, he thought, remembering the way she’d sang and laughed and danced in the officers’ mess.

There, in the quiet of the nighttime Sickbay, M’Benga came to a decision.

_I’m going to ask her out next time I get a chance._

_Nyota Uhura’s going to be my lady._

_Just wait and see._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, and to CassoBlanca and Beccs for the comments on Chapter 2!


	4. Feel All My Love Inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock's POV. All disclaimers apply, and all mistakes are my own.
> 
> First scene was definitely inspired by the song from which the chapter title's derived.
> 
> And KerryLamb's reading my fic! OMG. So thrilled. Best Monday ever. :)

****For the first time, for a cause other than weekly music lessons, the sound of a woman’s laughter filled Spock’s quarters.

The effect was not unlike that of tinkling kal-i-fee chimes, he thought.

“I don’t think I can, sugar! Not again, and not tonight! You’ve worn me completely out,” Uhura insisted with giggles that turned into panting as his heated lips branded the cool skin of her sternum, then seared the tip of each breast.

“That is an untested hypothesis, Lieutenant.” He inhaled, senses filled with the scent, sight, taste, and _feel_ of her, which was far more intoxicating than the chocolate he’d consumed the night before. “We shall only have valid findings after further experiments are conducted.”

His fingers were sliding up and down her bare back, registering the delight she was experiencing as a result of his actions. He was finding it exceedingly difficult to speak or think in Standard _._ He burned for her. Spock knew it was not his Time, but the urgency he felt where she was concerned bore certain reminiscences of it. Apparently, only this petite human woman with her laughing dark eyes and cool brown skin could quench this insatiable _thirst_ that she’d stoked to life within him.

Uhura was as gratifying to his body and mind as the purest of freshwater.

“We can experiment further after I get some sleep, _Commander_ ,” was her reply, which dissolved into another fit of giggles as he brushed his lips ever so gently against her stomach, then blew on her navel. “Hey, watch it! That tickles!

His lips bowed against her abs. She was so lush, pleasure personified, with such maddeningly soft skin that it was a challenge to determine where to explore her next. It was a challenge Spock was most honored to accept. He was certain that he could remain in bed with her for an age, tasting every inch of her, cataloguing her minutest reactions...

Yet once again, he felt compelled to taste her at the source of her sweetness.

Her giggles turned to soft moans as his dry tongue trailed down again.

“Negative,” was his assessment. “The optimal time is _now.”_

After he’d wrung out her pleasure once more from the sweetest part of her (she was, indeed, sweetest at the source, as he’d long suspected), she rode his lok until he spilled deep inside her, one hand on her deliciously curved hip, the other on her psi-points, enjoying her mind and body at the same time. She was not only exceedingly aesthetically pleasing, she was tight around him, _hotter_ than any human woman had the right to be, wet from his attentions, and utterly desirous of his being inside her. Again.

It was the very first time that he'd found his pleasure before he could assure her own. She was growing quite frantic in her need, soft and maddening thing that she was.

 _K’hat’n’dlawa,_ he thought in the ancient language of his people _. This one would soothe thee… this one would soothe thy ache, even as thee quench the thirst of this one once more._

Spock initially marveled at the sensation of Uhura's aching and longing for him, then chose to revel in it. He did not know if he would ever reconcile the feeling of her profound desire for _him,_ every part of him, his hands, his mouth, his lok, and everything that he’d done with her last night and this one. Before this, he truly did not believe that humans felt as deeply as Vulcans, his mother being the exception that proved the rule. Their emotions were fickle, changeable from moment to moment, ephemeral as mist...

Uhura was causing him to re-evaluate that assumption.

Of all the many fascinating things he’d witnessed during his years in Starfleet, Spock counted the vision of _her, Nyota,_ in all her woman’s glory, rising and falling above him, as his lok disappeared amid her moist, dark curls as the most fascinating of all.

 _One of the foremost wonders of the galaxy indeed,_ he’d thought as she came apart on his lok, engulfing his senses, his mind, and his katra anew.

Despite her earlier insistence that she needed to get back to her quarters, they engaged in intercourse one last time. Slowly and tenderly… gently. Locking eyes, trailing hands down the sides of each other’s faces and arms, then joining hands, facing each other, Nyota on his lap, her face buried in his shoulder as he lifted her effortlessly, guiding his lok in and out of her glorious keshtan-ur until they found completion again, his teeth buried in her shoulder, her shuddering and crying out, and clutching his back for dear life…

...and after he reached his own peak, for the first time, he did not withdraw from her, but allowed the base of his lok to swell in the manner natural for his people, locking himself deep inside of his ashayam, the fullness stretching her to her limits, drawing a final velvety climax from her. With a gentle touch to her psi-points, Spock sent the sensation back to her, reveling in it as he peaked again, starting a loop of infinite pleasure. Uhura moaned helplessly into his ear, emitting the most alluring sounds as she stretched to seek his kiss again, a new song on her lips composed for his ears alone.

_I’m taking you here and there, and all around the world…_

_Worlds indeed. T’Khasi and Terra, and all the light years in between,_ Spock thought in the back of his mind, relinquishing her exquisite keshtan-ur with the greatest of reluctance. While his refractory period was negligible compared to a human male’s, he knew his ashayam’s body had reached her limit for the night…. even as her mind still enjoyed his attentions.

She had met him measure for measure, and kept pace with him, but the delicate curves that threatened his very logic would be difficult to sit on for a full shift if they continued in this fashion. Uhura was in optimal shape, but she was no woman of Vulcan, evolved from foremothers who’d endured eons of Times. As it stood, he’d stroked her thoroughly and deeply enough that she would ache the next day, and no standard hypo obtainable outside Sickbay would fully alleviate her discomfort.

The thought distressed him, but a deeper, darker part of him was pleased. His teeth and his lok had indelibly marked Nyota as _his_. As he knew the loss in her efficiency would be negligible, he _wanted_ her thoughts on him as she worked.

He wanted their eyes to meet on the bridge, sharing secrets.

_Eyes in my soul, no one will know it but me._

The train of thought made him stir again. Spock briefly considered rearranging their shifts so they might continue their current activities after she rested, then dismissed it as impossible if they wished to maintain discretion for the time being.

Thus he coaxed Uhura, exhausted and content, to seek her rest with his name on her lips. In _his_ bed, and _his_ quarters.

 _“Spokh,_ ” she breathed, collapsing entire galaxies inside the way she spoke his name, voice softer than he’d ever heard it before, caressing the curve of his ear up to the point before her hand fell to his pillow.

He caressed the side of her face tenderly with the back of his hand. She’d entered the first cycle of sleep, and her thoughts were blissful. This pleased him greatly.

Spock knew that he could not remain in that bed and sleep himself. Uhura was far too tempting for him to do so, for he was once again aroused, the slide of the sheets against his lok making him desire the feel of her surrounding him again. With great effort, he unwound himself from her soft, petite brown curves, drawing the covers over her.

She stirred but did not awaken.

His eyes darted to his bathroom. The logical thing to do before meditating would be to shower so that he was clean before he donned his robes…

But Spock found that he did not want to wash away her scent.

 _Want_ seemed to be the operative word when it came to her. Surak help him, but she alone had the power to reduce him to a V'tosh ka'tur.

The matter settled for the time being, he removed his robes from his closet, donned them, and moved to the sitting area of his quarters. There, he sat cross-legged before his _asenoi,_ and shut his eyes.

It was a most satisfactory period of meditation, the longest he’d had the luxury of spending in 3.319 months. Rather than distracting him, Spock found that Uhura’s scent on his body and her presence in his quarters provided him with a degree of calm exceeding that of normal meditation.

He meditated from 1100 hours until 0400 hours, his usual waking time. After answering pressing queries that had been sent to his console from around the ship overnight, he spent the next hour engaged in the calculations that he wished to do based on his observations about the other Enterprise. He’d been doing some of the work at the back of his mind ever since the anomaly, but the additional use of his computer console would speed the process.

Throughout the hour, Spock worked, listening to Uhura’s soft breathing as she slept. He could not find satisfactory words to describe the sensations of peace and calm he was experiencing, but it was more than content, even more than gratification...

Spock knew that he would be most gratified to spend the remainder of his life’s mornings thus.

At 0500 hours, Spock went to the mess hall to secure adequate morning nourishment, as neither had eaten much the night before, only a bit of water and replicated fruit. (He quickly suppressed the distracting memory of feeding her cubes of melon, her cool mouth and tongue cleaning the juice from his fingers.) His replicator was sufficient for his morning meal needs, which mainly consisted of plomeek broth, but he wished for Uhura to have fare suitable for her palate.

Much to his consternation, the mess hall was shut for replicator repairs. Spock was annoyed. He should have been informed immediately of any complications, and he would let the department heads responsible know it. Following the directions on the sign, he made his way to the nearest recreation room, where a few members of gamma shift were procuring late mid-meals or early end-meals before seeking their quarters.

He programmed the recreation room replicator for what he’d observed to be Uhura’s favorite foods. During her time on the Enterprise, Spock had been present while she took her breakfast approximately 58.2% of the time. During these observations, he noted that she had chai 94% of the time, the traditional Kenyan porridge uji 89%, and the exceedingly rich mandazi doughnuts 28% of the time. Although the mandazi was rather sweet for his palate, he found uji agreeable, and chai tea most satisfactory… so much so, in fact, that he’d procured a supply of the leaves for his own use.

Spock decided to brew fresh chai in his quarters. Few humans brewed tea to precise Vulcan standards. He chose to program a serving of mandazi for her, and steaming bowls of uji for them both. To these he added small portions of fruit, and nuts and yogurt for protein.

When the covered dishes appeared, he put them on a tray, and carried them out of the mess hall. Her quarters were but a few steps and a turbolift ride away. Once in her rooms, Spock placed down the tray and opened her closet. Unlike many human women, Uhura kept it in meticulous order, if not quite the same precision that a Vulcan would. Nonetheless, he approved.

He selected a clean uniform. Finding sufficient undergarments was just as simple; the dressers worked the same way in all officers’ quarters. Her lingerie was neat and organized in open satin boxes, making it easy to select.

Spock was pleased. He selected a lacy black bra and panty set, as well as black stockings with lacy tops. He could not find a garter; perhaps she only had the one, or the stockings were secured in another manner.

Finding a garment bag hanging in the closet, he placed the uniform into it. The undergarments and stockings went into an inside pocket.

The matter of her clothing had been easily resolved. However, when it came to securing her toiletries, Spock found himself at a loss. He knew from his mother’s example that human woman used a copious number of products during their morning routine, not all of which were utilized daily. Uhura wore cosmetics, but Spock did not know which of the many products to transport to his quarters.

When he saw the rather large case at the bottom of her closet, he came to a decision. Opening it, he placed the whole of her vanity inside, including all the soaps and lotions he found in her bathroom… and her toothbrush.

It was quite a bit to carry. Few human males would have managed the feat.

Most fortuitously, Spock was no ordinary human male.

Back in his quarters, Spock inhaled. Inhaled _her,_ listened to her breathing. He could tell that she was nearing the end of her sleep cycle. Placing the tray on the table, he placed the uji and mandazi inside his replicator, setting it to the warming function. Moving quietly into his room, he hung up her uniform, then unpacked the contents of her case, placing most of them atop his dresser. Then he placed her soaps, lotions, and toothbrush into his bathroom.

Spock couldn’t help but think they belonged there.

After seeing to Uhura’s needs and convenience upon awakening, Spock finally showered, only using the sonics for a few moments. It was sufficient. Within fifteen minutes, he was cleansed, shaved, his hair was set to rights, and he was ready for a new day.

He had just finished brewing the chai when he heard her stir at 0600.

“Spock?” she called. “Oh, my God! How could you let me sleep over?”

He detected a note of panic in her voice. Spock walked into the bedroom with a steaming mug of chai in one hand, and the breakfast tray perfectly balanced in the other.

“You’re already dressed.” She was flabbergasted as he sat down on the side of the bed.

“Do not be distressed, Nyota. Alpha shift does not begin for another 1.96 hours. I have seen to your needs this morning. We have adequate time.”

Uhura sat up and took the chai from him, inhaling. “Is this for me? You shouldn’t have.”

“Why shouldn’t I have done so?” He did not understand. From the (pleasing) contact when she took her tea, he readily assessed her hunger and thirst. It was his right to see to her needs.

“It’s just a saying, baby.” She leaned up to kiss him in her gentle way, and he detected the happiness she felt. “I’ve never had a lover serve me breakfast in bed before...”

Spock fought the sudden urge to toss the tray across the room and cover her body with his. He had not realized how appealing Uhura would appear to him upon awakening; he had left her in her quarters the night before, and deprived himself of the pleasure… an error that he would not repeat.

He wanted to engage in sexual intercourse with her once more, but he was uncertain that he would be able to ensure that both of them were sufficiently sated before shift, given her need to eat, cleanse herself, and dress.

For the first time in his life, Spock found the impending shift to be an unwelcome inconvenience.

“I am gratified that you are pleased by my efforts.”

“I am. Very pleased.” She kissed him again, threatening his control. “It’s always better to endure the walk of shame on a full stomach.”

“Please clarify. What is a ‘walk of shame?’”

“Oh, Spock.” She chuckled. “A walk of shame is when you have to put back on your dirty clothes from the night before, leave your lover's apartment, and return home in order to shower and change.”

He understood. “Then you will be pleased to know that there will be no ‘walk of shame’ for you this morning. I have secured your things in my quarters, including a clean uniform and all your cosmetics. You may shower and change here.”

Her pleasant expression switched instantly into a frown.

“How exactly did you get my uniform, Spock? _And_ my cosmetics?”

“I went to your quarters on the way from the mess hall.”

Her gratitude shifted to horror.

“I shouldn’t have stayed the night! Spock, what if someone saw you down there in the mess hall, getting two meals? There would be questions, especially after neither of us showed up for dinner. And I don’t even want to know how you got my uniform…”

“It was quite logical for you to remain here so that you could have sufficient rest before your shift. At 0500, there are few on gamma shift taking their meals, and none of rank to question my securing more than one meal. As for entering your quarters, I used my override code.”

“That’s a serious violation of privacy, Spock,” Uhura complained, nonetheless sipping the chai, her eyes slipping closed at the taste. “You shouldn’t have done it without asking…”

She trailed off, sipped more of the tea, vocalizing her pleasure at the taste. Spock knew as soon as the words left her that she realized how irrational she sounded. He’d taken her, body and mind, over and over again these past two nights. Although she’d always considered her quarters her sanctuary, surely she could overlook it for the sake of having a clean, crisp uniform. He only thought to spare her the “walk of shame” which she apparently had dreaded.

Spock thought it was to his credit that he did not voice his reasoning aloud. Instead, he said:

“My apologies. I simply wished to ensure your comfort, as well as your nourishment. The replicators in officers’ quarters are insufficient for your nutritional needs, yet you remained with me nonetheless.” Pause. “We should combine our living spaces as soon as possible.”

She almost spilled the rest of the chai on his duvet.

“What?”

“It is only logical, Nyota. We will arrive at Elba II with a shipment of medicine in four days’ time, at which time I shall accompany the captain and medical staff to the planet’s surface. It will be most efficient if we can combine our dwellings before that time.”

Uhura laughed. “Listen here, Mister! Forty-eight hours ago, we were just colleagues on the bridge! We can’t just move in together.”

“Humans are inconsistent,” Spock observed. “You maintain indifference and yet your body and mind tell another tale, ashayam.”

“Spock, this isn’t about how I feel! It’s about being fair! It’s like I told you at the party, and _keep_ telling you. Fairness is the most logical thing there is, and it’s not fair for you to not allow me to choose…”

“But you have chosen, Nyota. You have chosen me, as I have chosen you.”

Suddenly, she licked her lips. Spock wondered if it is because the caffeinated beverage has dehydrated her. He resolved to bring her juice next time.

As he palmed her jaw, he took the empty chai cup away from her, and set it on the nightstand.

“It’s just sex,” she whispered, looking up at him with enormous brown eyes, dark as his own. “We have two and a half more years on this mission… I wouldn’t want to… I just _can’t._ "

He covered her mouth with his, stopping her words.

“Yet I _must.”_ The words rumbled in his chest, vibrated against her trembling lips.

Uhura could not lie to him. _That feeling’s mutual,_ she thought, hoping he did not hear.

The look in his eyes made her know that he had.

“Spock, I think we should slow down. You make me feel… you’ve...”

 _You’ve set me on fire,_ she thought, but did not say. He would not have understood the sentiment one week prior, but that morning, he knew exactly what she meant.

After all, she’d somehow managed the feat of turning him into a drowning Vulcan. He likened the effect that Nyota Uhura had on him to what humans called a “flash flood,” transforming every landscape she touched. Spock was used to the desert, where water was the most precious commodity. Water ceremonies were most treasured on Vulcan, where every drop was carefully preserved.

Perhaps it was not so strange that he, like his father before him, had been ensnared by an Earth woman. The curves of her cool body, her slightly salty, maddeningly _soft_ brown skin, and the unfathomable wellsprings of her incredibly pleasing mouth and keshtan-ur were so much like her watery planet.

Her voice interrupted his musings.

“Spock, did you hear me? _We have to slow down.”_

That was nonsense. However, he understood that he needed to explain why. Just then, his ashayam was a maelstrom of emotions: desire and trepidation, panic and peace. He wished to alleviate her fears.

“From what I understand of human mating rituals,” he began, very patiently, “'slowing down' is so that a male and female can acquaint themselves with one another. I submit to you, Nyota, that we are already sufficiently acquainted. We have spent the majority of our waking hours in each other’s presence for 2.57 Terran years. Calculating the time spent in close proximity on the bridge, mess hall, recreational areas, and in each others’ quarters for ka’athyra lessons, we have now spent 7350.2 hours in each other’s company since you arrived on the Enterprise. Furthermore, the events of the past week prove that we are compatible in every manner. It is illogical to 'slow down,’ Nyota, when we are most suited for each other.”

She shook her head.

“Spock, I understand that, truly I do. I can’t lie and say that I don’t feel anything when you know that I do. But I need you to understand that I can’t be in a relationship with the XO. I am the only woman among the bridge officers of the Federation flagship. I've worked damn hard for this position, and I don't want anyone thinking otherwise! Any relationship between us could affect crew morale, not to mention both of our careers!”

“If you believe I would display favoritism, let me assure you that it would be impossible for me, or any other Vulcan, to do so.”

Frown. “But if I hadn’t kissed you the other night…”

“It is useless to speculate. Your kiss revealed much to me, namely, that you were attracted to me as well. Although I do not wish for our relationship to be public at this juncture, it is my intention to declare koon-ut-so’lik once we are within proximity to either Vulcan or Earth again.”

She gasped. “We’ve just spent two nights together, and you’re ready to _propose?”_ She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “This is ridiculous, Spock! I’m going back to my quarters.”

”Nyota…”

”Spock, I need some time to _think_. And some space. Can you at least give me that?”

Everything within him wished to deny her request.

“I am willing to compromise,” he told her after 1.75 solar minutes of silence had stretched between them. “However, I find myself unwilling to return to our prior association.”

Spock wished that he could explain to Uhura that he _cannot_ do so. While he never envied human males’ endless prattling about their conquests, he realized that her assumption would be that they would enter a casual sexual relationship… what was that Jim called it? “Friends with benefits.”

“Friends with benefits” was as nonsensical as the idea of a “walk of shame.” The ways humans dealt with one another made no sense at all.

He wished to be much more than her friend. And he planned to be the only one with “benefits” when it came to Nyota Uhura for the rest of her lifetime.

Uhura bit her lip, a gesture that he irrationally found most becoming. “What kind of association are you talking about?”

“I wish to be exclusive.”

She shook her head. “It’s way too soon for that, Spock! You don’t ask to ‘be exclusive’ with a girl until you’ve been dating her for at _least_ three months, and _yes,_ I know ‘Vulcans don’t date,’ but I’m human! If you want to be with a human woman, you need to get used to some of our human ways.”

“Should I take your reluctance to be exclusive as indicative that you will seek other companionship?”

At first, Uhura did not respond. A foreign emotion swirled through Spock's mind at her silence, blood-green and threatening. He hadn't felt it since his fight with Jim on Vulcan, when he was in the throes of plak-tow. He was not burning with the Fires, though. He knew that emotion would be directed toward anyone who thought to "date"  _his_ woman.

"Is it your intention to 'date' others, Nyota?"

She shrugged, completely unaware of the green tide of jealousy that had surged through his veins.

“If you’re asking whether I’m going to hop into another man’s bed right away, the answer is no, honestly. I haven’t been intimate with anyone since… let’s just say it’s been a while. But I would like some time to think about what you’re asking of me, Spock.”

He did not know how to respond to this. This was what made humans so challenging, even frustrating at times. If Uhura were telepathic as well, they could reach mutual understanding without words… as they seemed to do while engaged in sexual activities. But when they weren’t, it was difficult indeed to know the right words to say in order to get the results he wanted.

Spock realized that there was no way for Uhura -- _Nyota --_ to understand how alluring she was to him just then, sitting up in his bed, clutching the sheet to hide the bare curves that he’d already memorized over the past two nights.

He’d also memorized what was in her mind. And her heart.

He knew that he had found his mate. T’Pring had never loved him. T’Pris was lost to him. Leila did not understand him. Christine was in love with the idea of him.

Spock would have Nyota Uhura for his bondmate and none other. His katra had chosen her despite his best efforts to deny the logic of claiming her as his… first, that she was a cadet and several years younger, then, that she was a new officer and needed his support and tutelage, and most recently, that she deserved his camaraderie as much as the senior officers whose scent troubled him not at all.

Her beauty was nearly decadent. Her face was symmetrical, with eyes dark as his own, high cheekbones, and smooth lips. She also possessed a wondrous body that was pleasingly proportioned, as if she had been fashioned to his specifications, in order to optimize his pleasure. Her mind was even more beautiful than her form, for it was quick and fair, generous and kind, with a balance of intelligence, wit, compassion, andpassion. She was in good health and was surprisingly strong for her height and weight, which meant that she had an optimal chance of surviving his Time…

Spock dreaded having that conversation with her. But he would take that risk, and more, to secure her as his bondmate.

Most fortuitous of all, Spock found himself desirous of Uhura’s company. On the bridge, during recreational times, and now in his quarters and hers, there was not another being he wanted in his life more than her.

The last thing he wanted to grant her was “time to think.”

“You may have all the ‘time to think’ that you need, Nyota.”

She seemed skeptical. “No more waking up in each other’s quarters, then?”

Spock found this suggestion irrational. He’d just expressed to her his unwillingness to resume the level of interaction that had existed before the officers’ party. Spending nights in each other’s quarters, in his estimation, did not count as an unreasonable request on his part. Now that he’d laid claim to her body and mind, the Vulcan in him assumed that he would continue to have her regularly, preferably on a nightly basis. There was nothing that the suppressed human could do to alter that.

Thus, he was faced with two warring impulses. The Vulcan in him, still not adequately rested or sated with either sex or meditation, wanted to pin her down, bind her to him, and copulate with her until she no longer knew the meaning of time _or_ thought. Yet the contrary human scientist was fascinated by her denial of everything he sensed in her mind and body. She _wanted_ him. What had been sparked between them was elemental. It could no longer be suppressed or denied.

The fact that Uhura sincerely believed that she had not yet chosen him was fascinating. It should have made Spock feel inadequate, and perhaps it would have if he were younger, or if he did not know her as well as he did.

As it stood, the force of her denial after all that had passed between them made her all the more irresistible.

“Whatever ‘more time’ means to you will suffice,” he said slowly.

Her arms flung around his neck without warning, startling him.

“See? I told you you’re the best,” she breathed into his neck, kissing it.

And Spock might have been fine, but as he’d observed, Nyota Uhura clearly did not know her own mind, or the way that her body had begun to instinctively respond to his needs.

She didn’t just settle for a light kiss, although the feel of her lips against his skin was enough of a inhibitor to his logic.

No. Her blunt little human teeth _sank in,_ tongue running over his skin, vocalizing with pleasure at his taste.

Gentle and affectionate was her sharp kiss, but it drove him mindless. The next thing Spock knew, the breakfast tray was on the floor, his tunic and slacks had landed on top of it, and he was pounding her into the mattress. Face down in his pillow, her behind jiggling temptingly in response to every one of his thrusts...

Which meant that despite his meticulous planning, Spock and Uhura were 10.1 minutes late to alpha shift.

 

*

 

“Sulu, you have the conn. Spock? You’re with me.”

Spock looked up from his scanner. The morning had been relatively uneventful again, leaving him to focus on the source of the subspace chatter that Uhura had found the day before. It was a most curious signal. Although the Universal Translator had not yet deciphered it, he thought he could tell a bit about the species who’d emitted it through the process of eliminating mitigating factors.

There was also the matter of the failing replicators. Clearly, something had happened when they’d had their uncanny rendezvous with the other Enterprise. Spock planned to spend the afternoon investigating further, but both the computer and his mind were busy with the calculations necessary to determine the nature of the more advanced computer.

The sole irrational thought he’d had all morning was that the other, younger Spock likely had a far less complicated daily existence. Surely neither his ship’s more advanced computing systems, nor his established bond with the other Uhura, gave him nearly as much trouble...

 _Kaiidith,_ Spock chided himself. Perhaps Uhura was correct. Spending time apart would provide time for extended meditation, and a genuine night’s rest.

However, he was not certain that he wished to meditate without her scent in his quarters, or on his person.

A consolation was the fact that for the first time he could detect his scent on her. Their unexpected lovemaking left little time for an extended shower, and he’d shared it with her (after cleansing the mess he’d made, of course). Although he could do little to replace the mandazi, there was still one bowl of uji left, adequate yogurt and fruit, and she did not object to supplementing these with a small cup of plomeek broth.

They'd taken the morning meal at the tiny table in his quarters, her perched on his lap, feeding each other the reheated meal.

Spock couldn’t remember a morning when he’d felt more contented. Judging from Uhura’s body language, and the humming she was doing under her breath as she worked at her station, he deduced that she felt much the same.

He was curious about why he should feel this content when nothing about the events of the past two days seemed logical.

Following the captain out, he passed by Uhura’s chair.

 _He wished to touch her._ But he could not.

Spock settled for gripping the very back of her chair. She’d leaned forward to reach a button, but he could feel her relatively cooler body heat over the short distance…

She smiled softly, and leaned back. The nape of her neck rested against the leather he’d just touched.

It would suffice for the time being.

Kirk was already in the turbolift. Spock stepped inside.

“What’s going on with you lately, Spock?” the captain said as soon as the doors of the lift closed.

“I am uncertain of your meaning, Jim.”

“Last night, I tried to comm you several times. You didn’t return any of my messages.”

Spock suddenly realized that he had not checked his comm since the afternoon before. It was the longest he’d gone without doing so since entering Starfleet.

“I am sorry, Jim. I was… otherwise engaged.”

“Oh, I know you were with Uhura.”

Spock’s heart quickened in his side. It was most unlike Kirk to use the computer to locate his crewmembers unless he suspected something was wrong.

_Did the captain suspect what had occurred between himself and Uhura?_

“But really, Spock, couldn’t her lessons wait? I know that the replicator issue isn’t an emergency, but I wanted to check in with you about it before Scotty gave this report.”

“She was in need of practice,” Spock answered gravely.

Which, in his opinion, was the truth. They both were in need of as much practice as possible. However, the captain did not need to know the nature of that practice.

“Well, if we don’t figure this out, we’re going to be in need of a new crew. Gamma shift’s complaining that the rec room’s only cranking out tasteless food cubes. The replicators were working just fine this morning…”

Spock did not understand the urgency of the matter. “The food cubes provide more balanced nutrition than the programmed meals,” he pointed out.

“Sure, but not all of us are _Vulcan_ , Spock. For humans, a meal is about the total experience. Sight, smell, taste, texture, even sound…”

As the captain waxed poetic about food, Spock was fascinated. He never ceased to find the ways that humans compared food to sexual intercourse. For a Vulcan, food was appreciated if it was optimally nourishing. However, sex with one’s bondmate was different. Besides their clothing, wall hangings, and other things to do with textiles, it was one of the few things in Vulcan society that remained ornamented post-Surak. A mate was, optimally speaking, a feast for the senses...

After the past 33.67 hours, Spock was certain that he could live on nothing but Uhura, with food cubes as needed, for the rest of his days.

Where food was a matter of life and death for humans, sex was the same on Vulcan. After evolving for millions of years on a desert planet, the average Vulcan could survive on very little nourishment for quite some time, and could derive nutrition from substances poisonous to humans. However, no adult Vulcan could survive indefinitely without quenching the fires of the Time with a bondmate, unless blood was spilled or the discipline of kolinahr was attained.

What was little spoken of on T’Khasi, and little known beyond it, was that the Time was not the only occasion upon which adults Vulcans had intercourse. That would be illogical. All humanoids engaged in sexual relations for purposes other than procreation. For Vulcans, such a conduit was even more essential than in humans, given their post-Surakian suppression of emotion.

Most other Federation species believed that Vulcans were creatures of denial in all areas of their lives. This was because few Vulcans mated with outworlders, and what existed between bondmates remained between them.

However, Spock’s parents were human. And he’d always known that his mother was exceedingly content with her choice of mate… so content that she’d dwelled on a planet vastly unsuited for her biology for several decades.

“...like a big, juicy, _grilled_ steak, cooked to perfection,” Kirk was saying. “Used to be that the best on Earth were from Brazil, Argentina, and Japan, but now most of the Federations imports from Andoria.”

“As I do not consume meat,” Spock observed, “the gustatory appeal of ‘steak’ does not compute.”

_Most fortunately, other gustatory pleasures are mine now._

The food conversation continued as they exited the turbolift and walked to the engine room. Kirk did most of the talking, while Spock responded where the captain seemed to wish for him to respond, and otherwise kept his own counsel.

Scotty was near the entrance of Engineering to greet them both.

“Ah, Captain, Mr. Spock,” said the chief engineer gravely. “Not a moment too soon.”

“What have you got for us, Scotty? Any good news?” asked Kirk.

“No, sir. At this rate, by the evening, every replicator on the ship’s gonna be malfunctioning. I cannae determine the cause, and I’ve had every engineer and scientist who can be spared on board investigating it… except you, Mr. Spock. I sent ye messages…”

“Which I received, Mr. Scott." Spock was irritated. He had responded to the chief engineer's missive, with instructions, several hours before.

“Aye, but I expected you’d appear in Engineering overnight, just as ye usually do,” Scotty looked exceedingly harried. “I’ve been working ‘round the clock, trying to figure out the problem, and I confess to ye… I’m stumped.”

“Mr. Scott, I concur with your assessment that the replicator divergences have been initiated by the recent spatial anomaly,” Spock told him. “I have been constructing models to understand these divergences, so that I may determine the best course of action for repair. However, the malfunction of food replicators falls within the parameters of a nonessential emergency repair…”

“Sure, if you’re a _Vulcan!”_

“Scotty,” warned Kirk. “I think you could use a little rest. Can one of your relief engineers take over for a while?”

“Begging your pardon, captain, if I can just work through the problem one more time…”

“You can work through it again after you’ve gotten a few hours’ sleep.” He turned to Spock. “Can you take over from here?”

“Affirmative,” was his reply.

And so he did.

 

*

 

Spock worked on the problem of the replicators for the rest of the afternoon and long into the evening. What was evident was that contrary to his quite specific suggestions, both Engineering and Sciences had failed to utilize the process of elimination. While focusing on what was _wrong_ with the replicator systems, they failed to note what was working _correctly._ It was a shortcoming he’d come to expect from teams that were predominantly human… needless overattention to errors and malfunctions while being insufficiently attentive to the way an entire system functioned. Much could be determined from examining the systems that were  _not_ failing.

As he told Lieutenant Masters, it was likely that the problem had little to do with the replicators’ hardware _._ Logically, mass replicator failure indicated a problem with the ship’s _software,_ which meant that he should have been contacted during shift _the day before_.

To her credit, Lieutenant Masters looked contrite.

“I tried to tell him, sir,” she said gravely. “But the Lieutenant Commander's a proud man. He wanted to fix this himself if he could.”

Three hours into his investigation, Spock was well into a diagnostic of the ship’s computing systems in the mainframe room. He’d just conducted one the week before, after the aborted self-destruct command Kirk had given in order to wrest control back from the Cheronians. This was most fortunate, for he would have a recent basis for comparison that was far more detailed than his routine daily diagnostics of the ship's systems.

Although he had several bright young computer specialists in his department, with multiple replicators failing, Spock did not delegate the task. It was work that he preferred to do himself.

While the diagnostics were running, Spock read and signed the daily departmental reports from the day before. He generally preferred to do so before or after end-meal in his quarters, but of course, yesterday evening he had been otherwise occupied.

 _Quite pleasantly otherwise occupied,_ he thought.

Spock saved Uhura’s report for last. While it was not in his nature to display undue favoritism, even to the one whom he sought as bondmate, he was pleased to see that Lieutenant Uhura’s report did not require further annotation before logging. Since her early days, she had become quite thorough in her detailed daily reports, and paid far more attention to detail than most human officers. Her extensive notes about the subspace signals, her work in the lab, and her efforts to update the Universal Translator were appended after her organized memoranda about the work from the rest of the department.

He signed the PADD that contained the communications report, giving it to one of the couriers who would give it to the captain’s assistant, who would then append it to his daily log.

 _1900 hours._ Alpha shift had been dismissed for three standard hours. His diagnostic would take another half hour, perhaps, and then he would seek nourishment, Uhura, and his quarters.

Once he completed his review of all reports, Spock returned to calculating the differential between the universe of the alternate Enterprise and their own, based upon the systems he’d observed.

Suddenly, he frowned. Which was something that Vulcans did _not_ do, but as he was alone with no one to observe him, he allowed himself to do so.

What he’d discovered was almost sufficient cause.

 

*

 

Spock waited impatiently outside Kirk’s quarters. It took a while for his chime to be answered.

“Spock!” said the captain. “Good of you to join poker night! It's about time!"

“Aye, especially since we’ve only food cubes and no Scotch,” joked Scotty. “But we’ve got engine room hooch aplenty!”

“And just what _would_ we do without your engine room hooch, Mr. Scott?” McCoy drawled, in a tone that Kirk told Spock indicated sarcasm. “Sit down, Spock, we’ll deal you in next hand.”

“Not tonight, doctor.” Spock turned to Kirk. “Captain, may I speak with you, please?”

Kirk looked up at him. “Is it about the replicators?”

“That and more.”

“Right this way.”

Spock followed Kirk from the sitting area to the captain’s office. As soon as the doors closed, Kirk rounded on him.

“What’s with you lately, Spock?” said Kirk. “You’re not acting like yourself at all. It’s as if you’ve got some kind of… of _secret…_ tell me, are you the Spock from the other Enterprise? Have I lost my best friend?”

“You have not lost me, Jim,” Spock said slowly. “Vulcans do not name anyone their _friend_ without meaning it. It is not a declaration made in haste or lightly. Yet I must ask whether you have kept information vital to the ship’s functioning away from me.”

“What are you talking about? Spock, why would I do that? You know about as much about the Enterprise as I do! You love her just as much! You’ve dedicated your life to her, just like I have! _Why would I keep anything from you?_ ”

“Because whatever information you’ve kept from me is affecting this ship.”  

A flicker of guilt crossed the captain’s face.

“Jim. I must know. After we disabled the probe from the other Enterprise, did you intentionally retain any of the files in our computer?”

“I marked it as classified,” said Kirk slowly. “That’s why you can’t access it.”

“I do not need to access it to know that it is there,” was Spock’s reply. "I could have broken the code, but did not wish to violate your trust and privacy.”

“Thank you, Spock.” He sat down, indicating the other chair for his second-in-command. “I know I should have deleted that stuff but it was like you always love to say… it was too fascinating. Spock, these other people aren’t like the other alternate universe counterparts we’ve met. You were there, too. They _are_ us, but us in a reality where terrible things happened.”

“Are there historical and biographical files?”

Kirk nodded.

“You’ve read them, then.”

Kirk didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

“Jim, by reading them, you must realize you’ve just changed our own universe.”

“We were there, Spock!" whispered Kirk. "Just us being over there has changed everything here. We all saw their ship. We saw their reality...”

“It is a reality without Vulcan.”

Kirk blinked. “How could you know that? You said you didn’t break my code…”

“Recall that I was in _my_ counterpart’s body, just as you were in yours. And… there was unnatural silence. You must understand, Jim, that all with Vulcan DNA are connected telepathically. The links are kept distant for all but one's clan, family, and bondmate, but they are always there.

"In the universe that we encountered, those links were... quiet. I do not know what happened, but I know that Vulcan no longer exists in that alterity.” Pause. “Neither does my mother.”

Both men were silent then. Kirk knew that Spock wasn't the kind of person to mince words or hesitate while speaking. He acknowledged the pain behind his friend's observations. Kirk couldn't imagine a universe without Earth. It would be a living nightmare.

Then Kirk said:

“Spock, if we can get these files to the Federation, we can have technology beyond our wildest dreams. The capabilities of their ship…”

“...were bought at a terrible price,” Spock pointed out. “Our counterparts were younger than we were, but at their ages, we had not suffered as they had.”

“How can you say that?” Kirk said indignantly. “We’ve nearly died a dozen times over. You know what I went through on the colony… and then, there’s what you went through, losing Chris Pike like that, and let’s not talk about your father…”

“When we were young, we did not know fear as they did,” Spock told him. “The crew of that ship is as courageous as our own, but the Federation of their world is under siege. The Klingons are stronger, as are other, more distant species that we shall face in our own time. The loss I sensed in that universe is unspeakable, Jim, perhaps even more so than in the mirror world. And yet where there is life, there is hope.”

“Truer words, Spock. They were inspiring, in a way,” said Kirk. “I wish there was something we could do to fix things in that universe.”

“As you know, there is nothing that we can do. For any ‘fixes’ would create yet another timeline, with unknown consequences. But I believe that the young crew of that Enterprise will prevail, Jim… as will we.”

Kirk nodded. “And so we will. I trust that you’ve got it all worked out, how you’ll fix the replicator problem?”

“Isolating the files from the alternate Enterprise should cause the replicators to self-repair. With your permission, I will work on the code overnight. Barring any unforeseen complications, all replicators should be online by 0600 hours.”

“Very good. Which means that I should take Uhura off alpha shift tomorrow, so she can wait up for you.”

Although his tone was nonchalant, the look in Kirk’s mischievous hazel eyes boded little good. (Spock knew that look well.)

“I’m not sure what you mean, captain.”

“What I mean, Spock, is that no lesson lasts _until 0810 hours the next day_. At least, no _musical_ lesson that I know of."

For once, Spock had nothing at all to say.

"In all the years I’ve worked with you, you’ve never been late for a shift," Kirk continued triumphantly. "I know I don’t notice everything you do, but when _both_ of you were gone at 0800 hours, and the personnel locator program said Uhura was in your quarters at _2100 hours, 2400 hours,_ and _0700 hours, and_  you haven't answered your comm all night  _and_ half the morning, and _then_ you both show up ten minutes late to shift, it doesn’t take a genius to know what’s happening.”

Spock said nothing. He simply raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t mean to pry. I was just worried about you.” Chuckle. “I’ll admit I was kind of surprised at first at the thought of the two of you... but when I thought about it, it made sense. This happened because you saw her counterpart on the alternate Enterprise, right? That gave you ideas, you sly old dog!”

“Jim, I must correct you. I am neither an aged canine, nor did seeing her counterpart cause me to develop any ‘ideas’ about Lieutenant Uhura. I have always held her in the highest regard since our first acquaintance.”

Kirk waited.

“However, knowing that my counterpart had formed a romantic attachment with the intent to bond with his Uhura led me to re-evaluate the possibility of exploring a relationship with the Uhura of our universe… or, to borrow a human expression, ‘my Uhura.’ She was amenable to the idea, and receptive to my affection.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet she was,” Kirk said. “The ladies on this ship are quite fond of you. You’re going to break a few hearts with this news, not all of them female.”

Spock was unsure how to respond to this. Certainly he had never sought such attention, nor encouraged the affections of others.

“Well, for what it’s worth, congratulations. As long as it doesn’t mean you two are going to be late like that every morning, that is…”

Spock felt a twinge of irritation, heightened by the look of teasing satisfaction on his captain and friend's face. He’d worked enough shifts over the past six months to take the remainder of the calendar year off, should he wish to cite regulation. Of course, he would never do so. Nevertheless, he would have to have a talk with his ashayam about the effect that her fetching little mouth had on him… _especially_ in the precious minutes before shift. Most fortunately, no one had noticed...

“And no more hickeys. You’re not teenagers, for God’s sake. Have some dignity.”

Spock felt the blood rush to his face and ears as the captain's eyes lingered on the telltale spot just above his collar.

"To what you are referring, Jim?"

“My God, man, I’ve never seen you turn _that_ shade of green before,” laughed Kirk. “Lighten up, Spock. I know you two will be discreet and professional about your relationship, and speaking as a friend, I think you'll be good for each other. And by the way, tell your new girlfriend that I owe her a drink next shore leave, because seeing you this flustered is _priceless.”_

“Jim, I really must insist…”

“Bones is going to have a _conniption_ when he finds out _._ Or a field day. Or both.”

Spock was horrified at the thought of the doctor opining about his relationship. “Perhaps we should keep the change in my relationship with the Lieutenant between us, Jim. At least for now. And do _not_ change her schedule without consulting her first.”

“Fine, Spock, fine.” He smirked. “Get out of here and go work on those files.”

 

*

 

Despite the complications, Spock felt rather gratified that the captain knew about his relationship with Uhura. For all Kirk’s antics, he knew he would not reveal secrets that were not his to tell. It was not his way.

Spock returned to the mainframe to begin the process of isolating the files from the alternate Enterprise. He estimated that the process would take approximately 3.5 hours, after which time he could reset the ship's replicators for automatic repair.

In the meantime, he decided to seek sustenance more substantial than food cubes.

And he knew precisely where to find her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to leave the next night for the next chapter, because this was getting a little long.
> 
> You may have noticed that I don't italicize foreign words in my stories, or gloss them. While I get why people do it, there's some conversation in the literary community about doing so in the thoughts and conversations of characters who are native speakers of that language. I've been influenced by this, and have decided to make a political choice to not position Standard/English as the "norm" and Vulcan/Swahili/other languages as "other."
> 
> For Spock, Vulcan is his first language, so slipping into it wouldn't stand out in his mind. Using it in his thoughts where Nyota is concerned show his regard for her. Also, I've used italics to indicate emphasis, streams of consciousness, thoughts, and flashbacks, so to use it for non-Standard/English words would be one thing too many. I'm hoping that context clues will be enough, or that readers will check the many Vulcan-English and Swahili-English dictionaries around the Web.
> 
> Thanks to Jades, DarlingSherlock, ClosedLine, KerryLamb, CassoBlanca, and AdelphaHighbrow for their comments on Chapter 3.
> 
> Chapter 5 will be up sometime later this week. It's still a mess, and I work Tuesday through Friday. (Sigh.)


	5. I Wanna Be Where You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhura's POV.

It was the evening after the day’s shift.

Uhura’s euphoria waned during the course of the day. It helped when Spock did not return to the bridge with the captain, but remained elsewhere for the remainder of the time before dismissal, likely to work on the replicator problem.

As it was a fairly routine day, Uhura decided to take the afternoon as an opportunity to come to her senses. The long hours in the chair were not without discomfort of a kind she hadn’t felt since she was at the Academy, and new to the whole sex and relationships thing.

Spock had tested her limits and brought her to the edge of herself. She’d thought she knew her body well, but he had shown her that she didn’t know the _half._

Speaking of bodies, who would have thought he was hiding such a nice one under that uniform of his? Uhura had expected him to be lean, even skinny. She had been pleasantly surprised by what she found beneath that science blue tunic.

While he didn’t have much body fat in the human sense, he was by far the strongest man she’d ever been with. Uhura was now sure that he could lift her with one hand. The thought of it made her weak in the knees...

Not to mention the fact that he was _huge_ down there. (She couldn’t help sneaking peeks that morning to figure out where the _hell_ he put all that. She  _still_  couldn’t figure it out.)

And?

Green. It was green.

 _He_ was green.

That had been a new one for her. Various hues she'd seen, but never green. She hadn’t been taken aback, just surprised. And then annoyed at herself for being surprised. Of _course_ he was green, all over…

Uhura couldn’t help but think that green was the warmest color.

“Something wrong, Uhura?” asked Kirk, looking up from the captain’s chair.

She looked up, feeling her face heat.

“Not at all, captain. Subspace chatter's quiet, and all frequencies are normal.”

"Thought you yawned or something." Kirk's eyes twinkled. "I don't blame you. Seems like it's going to be that kind of shift."

He gave her a nod, then turned back to the PADD he was signing. Uhura felt embarrassed. It was as if Kirk had detected her thoughts. Had she sighed aloud?

Maybe the plan to come to her senses wasn’t working so well after all. Drastic measures would have to be taken.

After a nearly unpalatable meal of food cubes in the reopened mess hall, Uhura wandered to one of the rec rooms, then to Janice Rand’s quarters. Yeoman Rand always had the most fashionable nail colors, and her collection had only expanded since returning from her Academy course.

Selecting a silvery polish with promises to return it the next day, Uhura made her way to her quarters…

And who should she see lounging in her living area but Spock, in all his long-limbed glory. He’d cranked her heat above her warmer-than-usual setting, had discarded his uniform tunic, and was seated on her small loveseat in his black undershirt and work slacks, reading a PADD as if he  _lived_ there.

This was going to be harder than she thought.

Looking over her shoulder to check that no one had peered in, Uhura locked her door…

And folded her arms.

Spock set down the PADD and regarded her. Uhura couldn’t shake the comparison of a gigantic cat that came to mind.

Or perhaps even a Terran panther.

She wanted to ask him how his day went, and whether he’d solved the mystery of the replicators. She wanted to pull her work dress over her head, and go to him, clad only in the lacy black bra set he’d pulled from her dresser that morning. She wanted to cradle his head against her bare stomach, let all the tension from the shift and the cares of being XO pour from his forehead into her navel. She wanted to press her lips to the top of his sleek, smooth hair, and whisper to him about her day, too.

Of course, Uhura did not do any of this.

“I thought I told you I needed some space, Spock.”

His eyebrow lifted to his fringe.

“Need I remind you what commenced subsequent to your declaration, Nyota?”

Instantly, she had a flashback. She needed no reminding of what made her _late_ for the very first time in her career.

_His fingers in my mouth as he thrust into me from behind..._

_All because I decided that one good turn deserves another._

“‘What commenced’ is going to have to tide you over for a while, Spock. I’ve realized that I need to be more specific about what I need. Before I decide to risk my career to be with you, I need to decide what I want. I mean, being exclusive means that I’ll never have dinner with another man...”

“To which 'other man' are you referring?”

The look on Spock’s face frightened her. She’d never seen him look like that before. Nonetheless, she pressed forward with her plan anyway.

“I think I need to go on another date or two with someone else before we see each other again.”

“What you are saying is illogical, as we see each other on a daily basis.”

“On the bridge, yes. We have to work together. But other than that, I need some space. I can’t choose to be with you if it means I’m going to lose myself."

Even as the words left her mouth, Uhura wondered if she was already lost. She didn’t _want_ to do anything that she was saying. She didn’t _want_ Spock to leave her quarters. She wanted to strip him and reenact all the ways they’d christened her quarters two nights before.

She wanted to take his lok in her mouth and savor his taste the way he’d been enjoying hers. She wanted to watch him unravel from her tongue as surely as she’d witnessed it while her keshtan-ur fluttered and pulsed around him. Deep down, Uhura _loved_ having that kind of power over him. She thrilled to being the only one in the galaxy who could unravel the unflappable Vulcan like that.

And most of all, she wanted to lie by his side as those gorgeous, electric hands of his sought her face, linking their minds telepathically, sharing thoughts and emotions until she did not know where she ended and he began.

_Oh, dear sweet heavens, I think it might be too late to fix this..._

_Or me._

“I cannot persuade you otherwise?”

_Oh, you could persuade me, Spock. All over my quarters. All over yours. As many times as we can fit it in whenever we’re off duty, and ten times that number during shore leave…_

_And someday, when I can arrange it, on that bridge where I have to see you every day. Looking, but not touching._

“No, you can’t. This is something that I have to do.”

“Very well, Nyota. I shall endeavor to respect your wishes on this matter.”

She exhaled. “Thank you.”

He picked up the PADD and stood up slowly, eyes never leaving hers. But when he tried to take a step toward her…

“Space means no touching,” she told him firmly. “It also means I’ll need my things back from your quarters.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“It doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate what you did for me this morning, Spock.” _All of it._ “And it doesn’t mean that I won’t decide that this is what I want at the end of the day. It just means that I need to take a few steps back, that’s all.”

They stared at each other for long moments. Uhura knew that her “no touching” rule was as much for her as it was for him… if not more. After all, she had been the one who’d initiated the kissing after the party, and this morning. She had chosen not to leave his quarters last night, and to sleep in his comfortable, warm bed.

If he touched her, Uhura knew she would burst into flame. She’d been combusting since the party, and she needed to keep her wits about her.

After all, she had a job to do.

“I shall arrange to have your personal effects returned within the hour.”

Without another word, Spock walked out of her quarters.

Uhura fought the urge to run after him, although everything within her was telling her to do so, that she was making a terrible mistake out of fear. The past 48 hours had changed her utterly. Spock had turned her life upside down, and she wasn’t certain that she wanted things right side up again… why was her face wet?

It wasn’t until she touched her cheek that she realized that she’d been crying.

 

*

 

Three days later, Uhura was eating lunch with Chapel, Rand, and Masters in the mess hall. The replicators were back to normal, but she found that she didn’t have much of an appetite. She had a small cup of ramen with vegetables, and a cup of tea, but had allowed both to get cold.

“Do you mean to say that you actually ran into Leslie _in his skivvies,_ Janice? _”_ Chapel giggled. “That must have been a fright!”

“Swear I did,” said the yeoman, crunching on a piece of celery. “Talk about a walk of shame!”

“Yeah? And just what were _you_ doing in the corridors at 0300 hours, Janice?” teased Masters.

“The same thing you were doing in Engineering at the same time, Charlene!”

Masters waved her half-eaten burger at Chapel, who had spoken. “I was in Engineering because I was assigned gamma shift…”

“And everyone knows our _bonnie_ Scots chief engineer loves to work the graveyard shift,” said Rand. “I don’t blame you! Give me a man who knows his way around a warp core any day!”

Masters threw a French fry at Rand, while the yeoman and the nurse laughed. Then Chapel noticed that Uhura wasn’t joining in.

“Hey, Nyota? What’s wrong?”

“Yeah, Ny, what’s the matter? echoed Rand. “Haven’t seen you at lunch in a while, and you didn’t even use the polish you borrowed.”

Hadn’t she given herself her weekly manicure? Uhura looked down at her hands. Sure enough, she’d removed last week’s polish, but hadn’t bothered to put anything else on. She always wore nail polish...

“Oh, I’m all right,” she said, waving her friends’ concerns away.

“You might be coming down with something,” Chapel, ever the nurse observed.

“Really, Christine, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Rand said. “Usually you live up to your name, Ny… you're the star of the ship... but totally, you seem like something’s clouding that sparkle of yours. What’s eating you?”

“It’s not that. I’ve been busy....”

Uhura trailed off. Before she could stop herself, she  _yawned_.

”Sounds like someone’s not getting enough sleep,” Christine said lightly. “Tell that secret boyfriend of yours he’s going to have to give it a rest sometime!”

 _How did she know?_ Uhura was _so_ tired. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in what felt like ages. And whenever she was sleep deprived, she tended to be snippy.

”What’s that supposed to mean, Christine?”

”Nothing at all! You _always_ joke about having a secret man stashed away in your quarters…”

“Well, I’m not joking about it now! I don’t think it’s funny!”

Chapel was getting angry. “Why are you so quick to take offense?”

”Because you are the nosiest woman on this ship, Christine Chapel! Stay out of my business!”

Uhura got up from the table, feeling out of sorts… and leaving her friends speechless.

Generally, Uhura and Chapel got along. They were generally considered to be the ship’s best friends. They’d known each other since attending Starfleet Academy together, although due to receiving nursing training first, Christine was several years older.

Uhura and Chapel were the female officers with the most authority on the ship. While Janice Rand worked for the captain, and Charlene Masters worked between divisions and departments, Uhura was a department head, and Chapel was head of all the nursing staff and other medical personnel, answering only to Dr. McCoy.

They’d supported each other in their times of need. After Chapel’s mentor and later fiancee Roger Korby turned himself into an android, Uhura had been there for her when she was new to the Enterprise while grieving. And Chapel had been there for Uhura when the rogue probe Nomad had erased all her memories, helping her recover them.

While Rand was the girlfriend Uhura went to when she wanted to have a good time and forget her troubles, and Masters was the one with whom she could go deep, Chapel was also an intellectual. She enjoyed talking about research, and was as fascinated about new developments in communications and xenolinguistics as Uhura was with Chapel’s updates about medical innovations.

Generally, Uhura and Chapel got along.

However, just as two lionesses understand when they’re in competition on a subconscious level, there had always been some unspoken tensions between the two...   _especially_ when it came to the inscrutable Commander Spock. While Uhura had taken her rejection and moved on, Chapel had kept trying.

_“They always say it takes longer for Vulcans to warm up to you,” Chapel told Uhura the year before, during one of their girls’ nights. “I can’t just expect him to know how I feel.”_

_“Oh, that Mr. Spock isn’t thinking about any of us, Christine,” Uhura had said practically. “For all we know, his parents could’ve arranged another match for him on Vulcan. We’d be none the wiser. You know how private he is.”_

_“Sure, Ny. Keep telling yourself that. You gave up too soon, even before I joined the crew! Now all you’re going to get from him are those boring harp lessons.”_

_“It’s called a ka’athyra,” corrected Uhura. “And it’s closer to a lute or lyre, not a harp. I’ve always wanted to learn to play. It’s kind of him to take the time to teach me.”_

_“And while he’s teaching you to strum that thing, I’m going to keep making him plomeek soup. They always say the way to a man’s heart is his stomach!”_

_“You’re too much, Christine!”_

_“I’m not! This isn’t the 19th or 20th century, Nyota. If I see something I want, I’ll go after it. That’s how I got Richard… and that’s how I’m going to get Spock.”_

Uhura tried to shake the many conversations that she and Chapel had from her mind. She was, among other things, the very _worst_ kind of friend. If Chapel knew what she’d been up to a few days ago, she’d be devastated, heartbroken…

And betrayed.

Thinking about betrayal made her think of Spock… although that was ridiculous, she hadn’t betrayed _anything_ when it came to him! It was _him_ who wanted to turn a little bit of harmless fun into something more. Her request for space had likely saved the esprit de corps of the ship. Spock would come to his senses and see that she was right to end things.

The last thing the Enterprise needed was war between Nyota Uhura and Christine Chapel. Although it wasn’t as if the boys on the bridge (which was how Uhura generally thought of the other senior officers) would notice. Men could be so _thick_ sometimes.

All the same, Uhura had been avoiding the senior officers’ mess. Spock usually ate there, and she didn’t want to see him outside duty, especially when the other bridge officers were around. She couldn’t have them knowing what was going on, especially the captain.

Uhura had sincerely thought she’d have a good time catching up with her friends. After the confusion of the past few days, she thought she would catch up with the other female officers.

Turned out it wasn’t such a great idea.

What did that Christine mean about “not getting enough sleep,” by the way?

_Was it that obvious?_

Uhura was so lost in thought on her way to returning her tray to the replicator that she nearly ran straight into Dr. M’Benga, who was coming into the mess hall. And she might have fallen, except she was caught in incredibly strong arms.

Jabilo M’Benga was one of Uhura’s favorite people aboard the Enterprise. Although their shifts rarely coincided, she loved chatting with him. His upbringing in Kampala was not unlike hers in Kitui. Both were from upper middle class East African families, with parents and relatives involved in regional, planetary and Federation politics. Both had focused on xenocultures in their respective fields, and both were fluent in Vulkansu. M’Benga was highly intelligent, poised, thoughtful...

He was also a tall drink of water who set hearts aflutter whenever he passed by in the corridors.

_Hm. Seems that I have a type._

“Where’s the fire?” he was asking.

”Dr. M’Benga! I didn’t see you there...”

”It’s no problem.” He was giving her the once-over. “Are you all right?”

”Yes, of course I am,” she lied haughtily. Then, with a sigh, “But I sure could use a cup of coffee before I return to the bridge.”

”Then join me. I’m here only for a few moments. We’re finalizing the medical shipment for Elba II tomorrow. Mr. Spock has asked me to be part of the landing party, and I want to be sure that inventory is _absolutely_ correct… you know how much of a stickler he is.”

He laughed lightly, always more comfortable with Vulcans than most of the Enterprise crew because of his experiences.

Just a week ago, Uhura would have joined her friend’s knowing laughter. But now, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Even hearing Spock’s name jarred her.

The past few days had been positively awful on the bridge as she tried to remain her normal, cheerful and professional self all while denying everything that happened between her and Spock -- with no one else on the bridge the wiser, not even Kirk… he was Spock’s best friend, and yet, she knew that Spock would have _never_ breathed a word of _them_ to Jim. The captain was oblivious as always, and Uhura was glad.

She knew that she couldn’t say any of that of M’Benga. But she could sure use a friend.

”Are you sure you’re all right, Miss Uhura?” Looking around and lowering his voice, he advised her in Swahili: “Inyeshapo mvua, allye ndani hajali.”

Uhura immediately smiled at hearing her first language. “When it rains, the one inside does not worry,” she translated into Standard. “You sound just like my bibi!”

He placed his hand on hers where it rested on the table between them. “Then I think you should remember your grandmother’s wisdom, and get some rest.”

M’Benga always lifted her spirits and made her feel comfortable. That’s what his touch felt like… comfort. _Home._

_He doesn’t make me feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust and burn into a pile of ashes._

_Not like some other people I could name..._

“Are those doctors’ orders?”

”Unless you need them to come from the chief himself, yes.”

”Thank you, Jabilo,” she said gratefully. “I’ll comm M’Ress. Hate to bother her on her day off, but I’ll make it up to her… and you.” For the very first time in her Starfleet career, Uhura was excited for the reprieve from bridge duty.

”You can make it up to me by having dinner on the observatory deck with me this evening.”

Nyota blinked. It never rained, it poured! She thought. First Spock, now _this_.

But this… this would be different. M'Benga wasn’t her superior officer. They were good friends. He was thoughtful and kind…

...not confusing, inscrutable, and _Vulcan._

And he certainly didn’t set her aflame with a single look.

It had been a long time since Nyota had been on a proper date…

”I’ll see you then.”

She clasped the junior medical officer’s hand, gifting him with a final smile…

The door to the mess hall swished open.

Spock was standing right there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, Spock's POV is next, and it's nearly done! More this weekend...
> 
> Thanks to Jades, AdelphaHighbrow, KerryLamb, nyota_rules, Great Story, and CassoBlanca for their comments on Chapter 4, and to the amazing Yalegirl03 for reading my little story!


	6. Soon I'll Be Loving You Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock's POV. Still no beta, all mistakes are my own, and all disclaimers apply.
> 
>  **2018 Note:** As indicated by all the tags, warnings, and disclaimers, Spock is OOC (out of character) in this story. Reiterating from the opening note: Con crit, I don't mind. I've been writing fanfiction for a long time. I give  & receive critique for a living. However, comments about OOC Spock in an OOC fic are inane, and simply annoying. **I already know he's OOC. I wrote the story. It's called crackfic.**
> 
> If this isn't your cup of tea, thanks for reading up through this point, and best of luck to you in all your endeavors.
> 
> If you're still here for the fun? *evil laugh* Scroll on...

“Lieutenant Uhura, you are needed in the briefing room.”

His tone was clipped and flat. His face was impassive. But submerged beneath his cool Vulcan exterior, hot green _rage_ threatened to consume Spock from the inside out.

This human healer had touched what was not his to touch. He had extracted a promise to spend time with her outside of his duties. He had been granted a smile when Spock had only elicited tears when he departed from Uhura’s quarters 67.3271 hours ago.

Tears that she would not allow _him,_ Spock, to wipe from her face.

 _Space means no touching,_ Nyota had said to him. Spock had noted the way her voice shook as she spoke the words. He would have protested, but when he saw that she was crying without any awareness of having done so, he’d exited her presence so that she would no longer be in distress.

During their time apart, Spock frequently monitored his ashayam’s condition through the weak bond that had been established through their melds. Spock did not feel as if this violated any ethical boundaries. He was not intruding upon Uhura’s most private thoughts, and would not do such a thing. Once they were bonded by a Vulcan healer, he would teach her how to shield her thoughts and emotions. He would also persuade her that it was his right, as her chosen mate, to see to her comfort.

Until she was secured as his, Spock believed that monitoring her physical and emotional well-being from afar was only logical.

Much to his consternation, Uhura’s distress had been unyielding. Being absent from his presence away from the bridge did not cause the sadness in her mind to cease. It was only within the past 15.4 minutes that Spock had sensed a distinct change in her mood. Instead of using the comm to summon her to the briefing room, he sought to find the cause of his ashayam’s renewed happiness, so that he might replicate the conditions.

Spock sensed a rival male in Uhura’s vicinity as the doors of the turbolift opened. His chest rumbled in a manner that would have warned a male of any species in the lift, but fortunately, he was alone.

It took a considerable amount of Spock’s control to walk into the mess hall without any sign of his rage.

It took reserves of control he did not realize he possessed _not_ to haul Doctor M’Benga from his chair, break his jaw, and toss him into the nearest incinerator.

His periods of meditation over the past two days had been sufficient, then.

Spock was uncertain whether the amount of meditation had been sufficient enough to refrain from hauling the shapely Lieutenant from her chair for a quite different purpose.

Uhura looked up at him as he approached the table where she sat with M’Benga. Her eyes were defiant, but she had let go of the doctor’s hand.

”I’ve been ordered to rest this afternoon, Mr. Spock. Doctor’s orders.”

”The captain has asked for all senior staff to assemble in the briefing room,” was Spock’s clipped reply. “As only the Chief Medical Officer can supersede that order, your duty is clear, Lieutenant. You will accompany me.”

Spock’s tone brooked no refusal, reflecting none of the turmoil he felt inside. His tone was that of the first officer of the Enterprise.

He would have words with M’Benga later, Spock decided as he followed a fuming Nyota out of the mess hall. This was all his fault. Given the words exchanged between the two before they noticed his presence, he supposed that the human male was one of Nyota’s many admirers on the ship. The thought of her friend from a neighboring Earth country being granted her favor would have incensed Spock…

...except there was no interest at all toward the doctor on her part. He was certain of that.

He was also certain of Uhura’s abiding interest in _him_. It flickered through their fledgling bond. It was in every inch of her posture, and it certainly was in the scent of her arousal… although she was indignant at being thwarted on her attempt to avoid him, and was performing anger, he knew that there was something more.

Spock had 1.2 seconds of wondering if he’d somehow lost emotional control, if his discovery that Nyota was the only bondmate he wanted had caused his Time to recur 5.71902 years too early.

 _It was not his Time._ He was quite able to regulate his bodily temperature and functions as normal. Also, barring his tardiness three days before, he had performed his duties with normal efficiency. Due to his diligence, all replicators were functioning normally, and the captain would brief the senior officers on what had taken place.

However, ever since the anomaly, Spock had been emotionally compromised. It was as if Uhura had become a lightning rod, channeling all of his emotions.

What existed between them was an electric current that he did not care to stop.

As soon as they were in the turbolift, and the doors closed behind them, Nyota whirled around to confront him.

”I don’t believe you, Spock! Throwing your weight around just to…”

Spock had claimed her with a searing kiss before he realized what he’d done. One hand reached up to her psi-points; the other down to stroke her fingers in a manner of ozh’esta that would be viewed as most suggestive to outworlders, and obscene to Vulcans.

He was acting on instinct, not logic. He was horrified, aghast at his actions…

_He needed to stake his claim._

Uhura did not push him away. He read her thoughts through that kiss: anger and frustration, not just at him, but herself… excitement and arousal… and an abiding degree of affection.

_He wanted to stop the lift, pick her up, and seek both of their pleasure._

Ten seconds before they reached the bridge, he released her. It was imperative that their liaison was not discovered. She was breathing hard, and her eyes were sparking indignantly, but she did not say anything. At first.

The turbolift stopped. The door opened…

”Mr. Spock,” she warned just as he was about to step out, in her usual professional tone. As he turned around, she pressed the button to close the door again.

”Lipstick,” she explained.

Spock was confused. Was she implying he was wearing it, or…

Her fingertips came up to touch his lips, and a little beyond, obscuring the telltale mauve smudges. Through her light, soft touch, he sensed the amusement and affection that she was attempting to conceal from him.

He wished to dart his tongue out and taste her fingertips. Much to his credit, he refrained.

”There,” came her whisper. “All gone.”

”Thank you, Nyota.”

”You can thank me by letting me get some rest after we find out what Kirk wants this time.”

Spock could tell that Uhura was extremely fatigued. It distressed him to think that he was the cause. While he would not apologize for the personal good fortune that the events of the past three days had led him to, she needed to maintain her rest and good health.

“M’Benga’s orders are not…”

”You are the executive officer,” she said firmly. “Make them stick.”

”I am immune to coercion,” was his reply. “However, in order to ensure that you have the optimal amount of rest, perhaps it would be advisable for you to spend the rest of shift in your quarters, not on observation decks, where such rest could not be gained.”

Her chin lifted. “I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much. I appreciate you speaking to the captain on my behalf.”

”It is my duty.”

And Spock wasn’t sure whether he was referring to his status as her superior officer, or the duty he hoped to assume for the rest of her natural lifetime…

If only she would allow him to do so.

 

*

 

Before each of the senior officers, there were two microtapes.

“Thank you, yeoman,” Kirk said to Rand, who had distributed them.

Yeoman Rand nodded. “Let me know if there’s anything else you need, captain.”

The door swished shut behind her. The bridge officers looked at each other, then down at the microtapes. Spock could not ascertain the nature of their expressions. While he would not have chosen to pursue Kirk’s course of action, he did not have strong objections.

“You may be wondering why I’ve called you all in here.”

“I assume it’s because we’re a day out from Elba II,” McCoy observed, “and you’ve decided to give us all a well-deserved shore leave!”

Before anyone could second this motion, Spock dryly said, “I highly doubt that you would find Elba II a restorative location, doctor. The atmosphere is poisonous, and the only humanoid inhabitation is an insane asylum.”

McCoy glared. “It’s called a sense of humor, Spock! Surely you’ve noticed that my Sickbay staff are the ones cranking out this little miracle cure…”

“On the contrary, I have noted that the medical staff are 58.4 standard hours behind schedule in completing the…”

“Gentlemen,” interrupted the captain. “And of course, Uhura,” he appended after she cleared her throat. “There is a matter that we need to discuss, but it has nothing to do with our next destination. It has to do with the systems of this ship.”

Kirk then explained to the senior officers about the alternate universe. Unlike previous encounters, the fact that they’d acquired the probe from the other Enterprise, and downloaded its files, had not only harmed the replicators.

“Spock, can you explain further?”

“The program that I have installed halted the progress of the replicator virus. However, it is only temporary in nature. That is because the software from the other Enterprise comes from a universe where Starfleet ships were much more endangered than in our own reality. I have had opportunity to examine the code of this software. Although my analyses are not yet comprehensive, initial diagnostics lead me to conclude that the software is self-repairing and self-replicating.”

Scotty frowned. “There’s no such thing, Mr. Spock.”

“Apparently there is such a thing, Mr. Scott, in the other reality. If you recall, the computer of that Enterprise was a sentient being, and represented itself by means of a humanoid on the bridge.”

“I remember that!” said Kirk. “But isn’t our computer the same way, without the bald guy?”

“Our mainframe is not fully self-aware. Highly intelligent, but not artificially so...”

“Well, now, that’s what we have you for, Spock, isn’t it?” snarked McCoy, who turned back to Kirk, pointing to the microtapes. “So what are these all about?”

“Each of you have two microtapes,” Kirk explained. “One is sort of a manual, almost a beginner’s guide, that the other ship’s mainframe provided, I suppose, to walk department heads through the systems specific to each department. Recall that we have similar materials in a different format. Chekov, you’ve got the nav systems and mathematics… Sulu, you’ve got the piloting systems and biology… Uhura, communications and linguistics, of course… Scotty, you’ve got engineering… Spock has all the other sciences, as well as the general operating system.”

“That kind of information could change everything, captain,” said Sulu, very warily. “That other ship was almost on autopilot. Yet there were functions that I needed to control that seemed counterintuitive.”

“Nonetheless, the software aboard that ship has already changed this Enterprise,” said Spock. “It is necessary to provide this information to each of you so that you can monitor your departments for any changes. In which case, you must notify me immediately. Do not attempt to patch the issue on your own,” here, Spock looked blankly at Scotty, “for time will be of the essence.”

“That’s one of the microtapes,” Uhura said. “What’s on the other?”

His eyes held hers, briefly.

Then he looked to Kirk, who nodded.

“The other microtape is the biographical information about each of your counterparts,” Kirk said, very slowly. “I decided that since I reviewed mine, and many of you ended up on that ship, too, all of you should be able to know what I now know about your counterparts.”

“Vait a minute,” said Chekov. “Captain, you don’t mean to say…”

“Yes, Chekov. That information is you, in another world. All of us. In another life.” He turned to the rest. “I’ve read all about my counterpart, and found it to be quite interesting reading. Gave me a lot to think about. I’m sure that you will feel the same.”

 

*

 

After the briefing, the rest of Spock’s time during shift was spent on the bridge, monitoring conditions for the Elba II approach. The long-range sensor array was in condition exceeding his usual assessment. He wondered if code from the alternate Enterprise had somehow calibrated their array to be more sensitive than usual. This meant he would need to check the system within the next 12 hours.

Uhura did not return to the bridge. Instead, Lieutenant M’Ress was sitting in her spot for the rest of the shift. The Caitian was adapting well to life on a ship that seemed determined not to make sufficient accommodations for its nonhuman crew. Spock, also descended in part from ancestors not unlike Terran _Felidae,_ found her work promising, and her demeanor quite satisfactory.

Nevertheless, Spock found that his afternoon was not as satisfactory. Strangely, he found himself unable to quantify the difference.

The end of shift found him with a need to return to the mainframe room. Since it was on the way, it would not be illogical to stop by Uhura’s quarters. He had, in fact, taken her advice, and allowed the one-time alteration in her work schedule to stand. While he could sense through their fledgling bond when she drowsed, she was now awake.

He did not understand the confusion that he sensed from her just then.

When her door swished open after his chime, Spock found Uhura sitting in front of the console in her quarters, absorbed utterly by her reading. He did not say anything at first, for he was struck by her appearance.

He had now seen Uhura in uniform, in her underwear, and in nothing at all.

But Spock had never seen Uhura in traditional Kenyan dress. The pattern of her kanga featured the colors of a terran sunset, with purple and mauve predominating. It was wrapped around her body, suggesting the tempting curves of her breasts and waist and fetching bottom.

What most fascinated him was the writing all over the fabric, stitched with threads of gold. Spock assumed that the embroidery were Swahili words, Uhura’s first language. Something about her attire reminded him of women’s clothing on Vulcan, and yet, it was nothing like it at all. For no Vulcan woman’s dress consisted of a single piece of fabric that left her shoulders bare.

_It would take 1.5 seconds to rid her of her garment if that is a knot._

Spock considered this.

 _1.8 seconds, if pinned or stitched..._ _negative. 0.28 to 0.72 seconds, dependent upon how durable the fabric is._

“Couldn’t stay away, could you, sugar?” she said quietly, not taking her eyes from the screen.

Spock would never understand the human propensity to use endearments that referred to either the Terran table condiment sucrose, the offal of Terran bees, or colloquial terms for infants and children. Nevertheless, the affection for him that Nyota had been trying to tamp down flooded the new bond, so he accepted it without comment.

“I simply wished to inquire after your health.”

“That’s fine. I wanted to talk with you, especially after reading this.” Shaking her head, she turned away from the console to face him. “Spock, I think I understand what happened.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Your logical brain decided that since we were together over there, we should be over here. But Spock, this girl… she’s not me.”

“That is incorrect. We share the same DNA as our counterparts…”

“But the devil’s in the details, and these details differ. For instance, she was born in 2233… I wasn’t until _2239._ In her universe, her parents had all of their children while they were in graduate school, in Nairobi… she was born there. I was born in Kitui, after my parents had graduated. I'm younger than Kamau and Makena; she's the middle child.”

She looked up at Spock, her eyes unclouded.

“I am nine years younger than you and the captain. She’s only _three._ Which means that while I was at the Academy, reading of all your exploits, and you were a famous officer already serving under Captain Pike… in that universe, Jim Kirk was her  _classmate,_ and she was that Spock’s teaching assistant. That made all the difference.”

His arms were folded. He was unsure where she was going with this line of reasoning, and thus felt it best to wait and acquire more data.

“Have you even read your files yet, Spock?”

“I have no need. I was in my counterpart’s body for several hours. I had access to his memories, as surely as he had access to mine while he was here.”

“Then you know that he lost everything. Of course it would make sense for that Spock to form a human attachment, to bond with my counterpart… because there are only 10,000 Vulcan women left in that reality. Here? There are billions.”

She stood up and walked to the small porthole that revealed the stars.

“I can’t even imagine what that Spock has lost. But the other Nyota? She lost family on the Kelvin, her aunt… _my_ aunt, who’s very much alive and well… and her decision to join Starfleet was because of her favorite uncle. Raheem. Also  _my_  favorite uncle.”

Spock walked slowly toward her. “Rear Admiral Uhura was one of the first to pilot the Constitution-class prototypes. He was an esteemed helmsman in his time.”

“Ambassador Uhura now,” she reminded Spock. Her arms were wrapped around herself, as if she was chilled. Spock thought to raise the temperature in her quarters to a more comfortable degree, then decided to warm her in another manner.

When he went to hold her, she did not protest. Uhura leaned into him, and continued speaking.

“As I was saying, Uncle Raheem was my favorite, too. It was his life that led me to a career in Starfleet,” she whispered. “But for that Nyota, it was his _death_ that did it. Over there, he died while she was still a child... he never knew that she got into the Academy like they always talked about, or that she got the Enterprise posting, or...”

This time when her tears fell, Spock’s fingers were there to wipe them away. Marveling at the cool sensation, he sensed her conflict -- should she remain with Spock, or should she go to dinner with the human healer?

“Spock, if this anomaly had never happened, _this,”_ she indicated the two of them with a wave of her finger, “would have never happened.”

“I concur.”

That made her turn around, although he still held her fast. “What?”

“The changes in that universe were made by another Spock still, from yet another reality. Theoretically, his universe was identical in all respects to our own before the anomaly occurred. He entered our counterparts’ universe in his old age, traveling through a spacetime rift caused by an artificial black hole. In his reality, he had been attempting unification between Romulus and Vulcan, and…”

Uhura was shaking her head. “He was doing _what?_ Was he… I mean, were _you…_ out of your Vulcan mind?”

Spock could not help the twinkle in his eye at her affectation of Dr. McCoy's complaints about him.

“There is profound logic in the reunification of the two species, as we are still genetically compatible, and much time has passed since the rift between those who followed the teachings of Surak, and those who rejected them. However, it is likely that the intruder was not _my_ elder self. That elder Spock did not encounter that alternate reality while he was in Starfleet; his actions in part created the universe that our younger counterparts know."

Spock explained briefly about the vengeful actions of Nero, the destruction of the USS Kelvin, how the Klingons had been involved, and then the fateful day of the destruction of half the Federation ‘fleet, the shining promise of their generation of young officers, and of course, Vulcan.

Uhura was shuddering.

“What a nightmare, Spock. Thank heavens that’s not our reality! Oh sure, the Federation has suffered its share of losses, but all of those people lost during those tragic genocides in that universe… most of them are _alive_ here! Which means the reason why the other Spock and Nyota are together doesn't exist here…”

She was irrational and maddening.

She was fragrant and soft in his arms.

He did not know how he would be able to allow her to dine with her human healer this night.

“Does it not?” he asked, gazing at her upturned face.

“Spock, I…”

“Your logic is flawed, ashal-veh. Your implication is that our counterparts found each other only due to tragedy. I submit to you that it is because they were together that they had the ability to withstand the adversity they faced. When that Spock lost his mother, his planet, and most of his species, his Nyota was essential to him. Indeed, it was substantially before that tragic time that they formed their initial bond.”

His hand came up to caress her face. She leaned into his touch.

“As for our other counterpart, the elder whose rash actions led to that reality, I am not he. He did not touch his Nyota like this,” his hand trailed from her jaw to her neck, “nor did he sample her pleasing mouth, like so…”

As his mouth found hers anew, Spock wondered at the degree of self-control that aged Spock must have had in his youth, to be able to resist such a fetching creature’s endless charms. Following the path that Surak walked was one matter; choosing kolinahr in place of love and friendship where it was offered was its own madness.

 _Self-denial is not self-control,_ Spock reflected, relinquishing her lips reluctantly. _I believe that the_  e _lder Spock who caused the Kelvin reality must have been V’tosh ka'tur in his own way._

“I…” Nyota began.

“I would sample your _other_ pleasures as well, k’diwa.” His voice was lowered to its deepest bass register, and his breathing was ragged. “If it is your wish, I will inform the doctor that you are indisposed.”

“I can’t _think_ , Spock… see what I mean? That’s the problem! You touch me and set me on fire with all these things you _want…_ you were supposed to be _different_ , you know that? I dreamed that someday, you would ask me for dinner on the observation deck, or to take a walk around the ship. I dreamed that we’d end up running into each other during shore leave on Earth, and would end up walking the Golden Gate Bridge, talking about everything and nothing in particular. I dreamed about going to Vulcan and seeing where you grew up, and taking you to Kitui and introducing you to my family.

“And then I dreamed that you would take me to some hotel with beautiful white linens, and you’d indulge my silly human woman _stuff_ like champagne and roses. And when we made love, you would be gentle, and patient, and perhaps a bit fumbling.” She laughed to herself. “I imagined that I would have to teach you how to please me, but that I would be the only teacher you needed.

“Instead, _this_ happened.” The point of her finger landed on his chest, where his heart would have been located if he were fully human. “I have never… not in my _life..._ Spock, it wasn’t supposed to be like this! _We_ weren’t supposed to be like this! You were supposed to be _cool…_ as they say, still waters run deep… tall, dark, and handsome… a _gentleman._ You weren’t supposed to be this… this... volcanic eruption right in the middle of my _life_.”

“I see,” he said, slowly. “You expected me to be as a human male who possessed my public disposition in private as well. Am I correct in that assessment?”

“No!” she said quickly. Then… “Yes.”

“Nyota, I submit that you would be bored with such a human male by the end of one Terran day,” Spock assured her. “You can hide neither your response to me, nor the vivid nature of your desires. Had you longed for gentleness in a mate, I would have endeavored to be gentle with you. Indeed, I have been, and will endeavor to be, as gentle as you require to fulfill your needs, particularly when you are fatigued, ill, or distressed. However, when we are alone, you seem to desire much more from me than 'gentlemanly behavior.' It is my right as well as my _pleasure_ to see to those needs.”

Spock hoped the truth of his words were evident. Outside of feverish Times, the sexual behaviors of Vulcan males were typically responsive to that of their mates. Vulcan females’ needs differed from that of human women. Added to that, Spock was still part human.

His hunger for her may have begun as a single drop before the flood, but it was more than reciprocated. Nyota Uhura was not only a most aesthetically pleasing woman, she was a woman who enthusiastically enjoyed physical intimacy, and required it for optimal functioning.

Spock felt most fortunate to be able to, as humans would say, “deliver.”

“As for your other imaginings, k’diwa, I do not find them illogical, simply impractical at this time. We are scheduled for shore leave in one month’s time, when we shall spend time at leisure in each other’s company. In due course, we shall return to Earth, and Vulcan, and at that time, we will engage in every activity that you have noted.”

 _As well as some that you did not note,_ he thought. For between the lines of all those “walks and talks” mandated by human courtship rituals, he could now read some of her fantasies that she had not voiced aloud, even to herself.

She dreamed of him taking her in a deserted corridor, on the observation deck. She dreamed of getting him off in a Jefferies tube, taking his lok into her cool, moist mouth.

She dreamed of making love in the San Francisco fog and rain, preferably on the balcony of an apartment with a view of the Bay. She longed to kiss him for hours in the tall grass of the savanna outside her childhood home, coupling beneath the open starlit sky.

Although her imaginings of Vulcan were quite inaccurate (his home planet and region were more akin to a hot Mars than either the Sahara or the Mojave on Earth), she dreamed of being dressed much as T’Pring had been during their failed kal-i-fee, and coupling with him in a desert cave...

It appeared that he would have his work cut out for him once his little k’diwa came to her senses. There would be extensive planning required for all of these scenarios.

Uhura was shaking her head.

“I’m still going on this date, Spock. You can’t stop me.”

Spock tamped down a sudden urge to prevent her from doing so, to show her that he could, in fact, stop her from doing something that would lead to misery for both of them.

He was in the throes of shon-ha’lock when it came to her. She was, in the human fashion, “head over heels” in love with him. To bring another person into the cataclysmic emotions that had commenced between them would be not only irrational, but also cruel.

Most unfortunately, Spock did not know how to tell Uhura this without sounding like an overbearing, possessive human male. He suspected that if he forbade this “date,” Uhura would react badly. She thought of herself as an independent woman who treasured her autonomy. So he released her so that he would not follow the impulse to retain her here in her quarters.

He released her with a warning.

“It is futile to ignore what is between us, k’diwa. What has happened, and what _is,_ cannot be undone.”

“Listen to me, Spock! Jabilo asked me out, and I accepted. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been on a real date? Since anyone’s asked me out?” she asked. “I can’t go out with the ensigns, or anyone who reports to me. I work so much that it’s difficult to get away from the bridge or my department. I never thought I’d be 30, and still single…”

This was sheer human madness _._ Uhura was by no means ‘single,’ and any male on the Enterprise who thought to pretend otherwise would be the recipient of Spock’s wrath.

“I will not pretend that I am pleased that you will be dining with this doctor,” he told her. “You do not know his intentions...”

“Well, until the other night, I certainly didn’t know yours, either! M’Benga is a gentleman, Spock. I want to go out with him, and see if a human style attachment suits me better than this… than _this. This_ is overwhelming. When I’m with you, you’re all I can think about! I need you to let me figure that out, okay?”

“I believe I stated that I would respect your wishes on this, Nyota.” _Even if your wishes are delusional beyond normal human illogic._

“Then wish me luck.”

He just _looked at her._

She laughed merrily. “Fine, caveman. Don’t wish me luck. But I’m rather surprised that the famed Commander Spock of the Enterprise is afraid of a little competition.”

“There is no 'competition,' Lieutenant. However, I bid you a satisfactory evening.”

He left her smiling at her dresser mirror, reapplying her lipstick.

Spock was uncertain whether he would attain any degree of satisfaction that night.

 

*

 

The next morning, Spock encountered Dr. M’Benga, whistling in the corridor as he walked out of Sickbay.

Spock fought the impulse to separate the man’s limbs from his body, as he was the direct cause of his distress. The last 14.375 hours had been quite unpleasant, as he had been able to neither meditate nor sleep. As an alternative, after leaving Uhura’s quarters, he’d passed the balance of beta shift and the whole of gamma in the mainframe room, multitasking as was his wont.

Through the entire time, he checked their fledgling bond often. The only consolation that Spock had was that she and M’Benga had not spent the night together. However, their dinner on the observation decks had lasted nearly 3.5 hours, and M’Benga had walked her to her rooms. There had been a sudden flicker that led Spock to crush the PADD in his hand, and then, the activity on her end was muted in the way that allowed him to know she was asleep.

He was relieved that no one was near enough to see the fate of the PADD.

If that were not enough, the doctor had chosen to take breakfast with alpha shift, making it the final meal of his day. Spock could not tune into the entire conversation, but he knew the fuzzy warmth that _his_ Nyota felt when conversing with the doctor.

When Uhura came to the bridge, talking with Sulu and Chekov, Spock experienced a great deal of relief. He commended himself for refraining from taking her aside and interrogating her about the way she’d spent her evening. Instead, he commenced his routine morning duties.

For the first time since her tour of duty began on the Enterprise, Uhura did not speak to him or look at him once.

He was on his way to Sickbay to check the Elba shipment one final time. The landing would be that evening, and Spock would be in preparation for the remainder of the shift. However, the last person he’d planned to encounter was M’Benga.

“Commander!” The human male seemed cheerful indeed. Spock wished to wipe the smile from his face. “I was on my way to report the medical shipment is ready.”

Spock did not say anything. He just _looked._

Once he was certain M’Benga was unnerved, he said:

“I believe that you are off duty, Dr. M’Benga.”

“I was,” he said, “but I told Doc McCoy I’d make sure this was finished in enough time for the landing party…”

“You have exceeded your expected delivery date by nearly three standard days,” sniped Spock. “This presents an inconvenience for the mission, as each of the doses must be weighed, labeled, _and_ certified before delivered to the facility.”

Apparently, Spock had indeed succeeded in wiping the grin off M’Benga’s face.

“Perhaps if you spent sufficient time engaged in your duties," Spock continued, "and less on personal matters, the shipment could have been prepared on schedule.”

“Now, you wait just a minute, Mr. Spock! The replicators I needed to synthesize that glucose compound were offline in here for more than a day! You can’t expect us to just…”

“Insubordination _and_ an unwillingness to take responsibility for one’s actions. I shall note both, Dr. M’Benga, on your next performance report.”

M’Benga was irate. “Are you serious? That delay wasn’t my fault! Everyone on the ship suffered a setback when the replicators shut down!”

“I must correct you, doctor,” Spock said, his tone icy. “Other departments suffered no more than a negligible dip in performance during the replicator malfunctions…”

“Yeah, because unlike Medical, some of those departments don’t use replicators in the same way! Communications is just one example!”

Spock’s eyes turned black.

“Your choice to entertain the chief communications officer over dinner  _instead of_ working through the shift to ensure the medicine was ready may very well inhibit the success of this mission. There are numerous patients waiting for that medicine. Such irresponsibility is inappropriate for a Starfleet officer.”

M’Benga seemed contrite. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.”

“I didn't mean to be insubordinate, Mr. Spock, and I certainly didn’t mean to mess up that shipment. You know that's not me. I… haven’t been myself lately. I know this might be difficult for you to understand as a Vulcan, but sometimes, when a human man meets his match, she throws us a little off balance for a while.”

It was most fortunate that Spock’s hands were behind his back, in his usual stance.

It was most fortunate, for M’Benga could not see one of them tighten into a fist.

For M’Benga was smiling again.

“Your… 'match?'” Spock had found it prudent, from time to time, to feign ignorance when interacting with humans. This was usually to obtain clarification when they were confusing. However, Spock believed he knew exactly to whom M’Benga referred.

“I think I’m falling in love with Lieutenant Uhura,” he confessed. “She’s everything I want in a woman. And you know, I think she just might feel the same way too.”

Spock’s hands unclasped as if of their own volition.

He stopped them at his sides, forcibly pressing them into his hipbones. Choking this man until the life drained from him was _not_ an option, would cause him to be court martialed, and was irrational besides.

M’Benga was growing uncomfortable at Spock’s lack of response.

“Didn’t mean to get so emotional with you, Mr. Spock. I’ve been around Vulcans long enough to know that you don’t appreciate that. I’ll be sure to make it up to you when I’m on the landing party…”

“You are no longer part of the Elba II landing party, Dr. M’Benga,” Spock said without thinking. “You have just admitted to me yet another infraction, that you have shown favoritism toward Lieutenant Uhura by granting her an unauthorized medical leave."

"Pardon me, sir, but that's not..."

"Did you, in fact, have permission from CMO Leonard McCoy to grant such a leave?"

"No, but..."

"You have just admitted to me that you have prurient interest in a senior officer on this ship, Dr. M'Benga, and you have now admitted that you had no authorization to grant that officer an unorthodox leave. Therefore, you will remain behind in Medical, and you will consider your conduct, for it is unbecoming of a Starfleet medical officer assigned to deep space to assuage his own needs abovethose of others.”

His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly.

“Next time, Dr. M'Benga, be advised that I will not be so lenient.”

M’Benga’s eyes were flooded with anger. “Yes, _sir.”_

It wasn’t until Spock was leaving Medical that he realized the implications of his actions.

While he was working on Elba II, M’Benga -- his chief rival -- would be on the ship with _his_ Nyota for more than a day.

Alone.

How could he have overlooked this? How could he have made so grave an error? He was certainly emotionally compromised. Instead of refusing M’Benga’s wish to join the landing party, he should have sent _him,_ and remained aboard himself...

 _No._ Spock would not recuse himself from duty. He was quite curious about the facility, its famous inmates, and most eager to meet the famous Dr. Cory, its governor. Besides, the nature of the mission was sufficient for him to accompany the captain. Sometimes, Kirk would not trust anyone else with the ship save for Spock.

It was to be greatly hoped that nothing would go amiss with the mission. Spock did not wish to think about returning to the Enterprise, only to find that he’d lost half of his heart and soul.

Drastic measures would have to be taken, then.

Determining his best course of action, a resolute Spock headed out of Medical in search of Uhura.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Sorry to disappoint those of you looking for the heat (whether some good hot lovin' or a knock-down drag out fight)... but it's not over until it's over... and we've still got 4 chapters to go!
> 
> Next up is Uhura's POV, and this AU's version of the events during and after "Whom Gods Destroy." Won't go down to the planet with Kirk and Spock, but you'll see what happens when they get back.
> 
> Thanks to DarlingSherlock, AdelphaHighbrow, KerryLamb, CassoBlanca, Yalegirl03, and Jades for their reviews on Chapter 5 — you’re seriously the best!
> 
> Until next time!


	7. Since I Had You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhura's POV. See previous chapters for disclaimers.

****Uhura awoke the morning of the ship’s arrival at Elba II feeling refreshed. M’Ress had been kind enough to take the rest of her shift, and she’d had a very pleasant dinner date with M’Benga.

Between the two nights she spent with Spock, and the two nights she spent worrying about Spock, she hadn’t slept enough since the night before the party…

She hadn’t enjoyed such a blissful sleep since their arrival at Scalos weeks before.

All in all, life was good for Nyota Uhura. Especially since she’d managed to get Spock out of her quarters for a second time without sleeping with him. The first time had left her depressed and saddened, but this time, she felt invigorated. Empowered.

 _She_ , not Spock, was the one who controlled her life. She would decide who she would see, when, and how...

Of course, there had been one moment, just as she was leaving her quarters, when Uhura wondered if she wasn’t making a terrible mistake. Although she enjoyed Jabilo’s company greatly, when she was with him, there were moments of excitement and warm tingles, but it sometimes felt more like spending time with the boys on the bridge: Hikaru or Len, or even young Pavel.

Uhura didn’t feel anything close to the crackling, electric intensity with M’Benga that she felt whenever she was with Spock. Electricity that she’d tamped down and ignored for years, but electricity nonetheless.

All the same, she knew the risks of being involved with Spock very well. Above and beyond their status on the ship, the risk to their friendship, and the potential that their relationship would have to change the dynamic among the crew, Nyota wasn’t sure that she _wanted_ to be with a Vulcan, now that she was glimpsing what that meant.

Spock observed everything and missed nothing. Somehow, she’d become the center of his singular focus. Without missing a beat, he ran the ship like a well-oiled machine, the best second-in-command in Starfleet, and yet had undertaken the study of _her,_ and all things pertaining to her.

Uhura was beginning to wonder how much he knew about her inner workings, and whether he was aware of certain things that she didn’t even know herself.

She was afraid that loving such a man… not fully human, but a hybrid Vulcan... would strip her bare. Body, mind, and soul. After all, he was a touch telepath. With a single touch, everything she was thinking and feeling could be revealed. Could she handle it, and him, and still maintain her career in Starfleet? She wasn’t sure.

Dinner with Jabilo M’Benga had been just what the doctor ordered. It was the cure for what ailed her. He had shown up precisely at 2000 hours, looking handsome in a kanzu tunic and trousers with the traditional omulela embroidery. Uhura appreciated his cologne as she took his arm and allowed him to escort her to the observation deck.

It had been, in all respects, a wonderful date, the like of which Nyota had not enjoyed since joining the crew of the Enterprise. M’Benga had somehow found a way to manage the ingredients of a passable ugali with accompanying stew out of the refurbished replicators, and he was as always an excellent conversationalist. They talked about everything and nothing, about happenings and gossip from around the ‘Fleet and the Federation, about politics back home in Africa, and even how they were faring aboard the Enterprise.

M’Benga was a polyglot, too. Conversation had shifted easily between Swahili, Vulcan, and Standard, sometimes within the same sentence.

Soon, it was time for Uhura to retire if she wanted to be in any condition to report for shift the next day. He paused as her door opened, and she invited him in. After all, Uhura wasn't going to kiss him in the corridor...

Their kiss had been brief but sweet. Jabilo’s lips were warm and soft. He drew back after three seconds, beaming down at her as if her face was the risen sun.

“You are altogether lovely, the very brightest of stars… may I call you Nyota?”

She returned his smile. “You may.”

At that point, she’d fully expected M’Benga to kiss her again. If he did, she was determined to let the chips fall where they may. Uhura was not beholden to any man or any _one_ on the Enterprise, contrary to what a certain first officer might wish to think.

She found herself wondering what it would be like to take Jabilo to bed.

_It’s his fault. Between the turbolift, and here in my quarters after shift, Spock’s left me all hot and bothered…_

But M’Benga didn’t try to kiss her again. He took a step back, eyes sweeping her figure from head to toe.

“You are the consummate lady, Nyota. I hope that I can see you again.”

Speechless, Uhura nodded as he took her hand, kissed it, pivoted, and walked through the door.

Which left Uhura frustrated in a very specific sense. For a moment, she thought about going after him. It was the 23rd century, not the 19th or 20th… it wasn’t right to leave a girl hanging!

Well, there was a solution to her problems in her drawer. Stripping off the kanga and tossing it into her ‘fresher, she padded to her dresser in search of her little friend.

_It’s the single girl’s best friend! Janice Rand had declared during one of her girls’ nights, when she’d had a party that the men were none the wiser about. The outrageous yeoman had taken to having occasional Orion toy parties. All of the girls had been scandalized, but everyone had attended and gaped at the wares._

_Christine Chapel had been aghast. Of course, Uhura would place money on her having approached Rand later, just so she wouldn’t face ridicule after blushing beet red during the laughter and quips..._

_Charlene Masters had bought several toys._

_So had Uhura._

Uhura took out her “treasure box,” and placed it on her bed. Opening it, she expected to feel the familiar curl of desire, quality time with a couple of choice items and her fantasies that starred a few holo celebs, an Adonis of a cadet whom she dated at the Academy…

...but most of the time, a certain Commander had received top billing.

Scratch that. Make that almost _all_ of the time.

But that night, as she looked at the things she’d purchased at the party, nothing seemed appealing. Uhura tried to recall her previous fantasies and failed. She tried to bring back to mind other sexual experiences, before the dry spell of the Enterprise… no dice at all.

Even worse, the toys seemed…

_Inadequate._

Where had that thought come from? She didn’t think it was her own, but then, who else would be in her room with her?

Unfortunately, it described the implements she was sizing up just then.

_He’s almost twice the size of my biggest one of these. Not to mention that thing he does when he’s inside me, when he kinda locks it in there and just…_

_No!_

Uhura refused to get off to _that_ thought. She did not care how amazing sex with Spock was, she wanted more than that. She was worth more than that!

She wanted what Jabilo M’Benga had given her… a starlit dinner on the observation deck that he’d put much thought into preparing, staring into her eyes for hours, making her laugh for the sole joy of hearing the sound of her voice.

Spock would dismiss doing something like that as a waste of time, inefficient, and beneath him as the busy executive officer of the ship.

_Being with Spock would just be a whole lot of work and a whole lot of..._

_Sex. Fantastic sex. Amazing sex._

_Mind-blowing, toe-curling, blow-the-top-off-your-head-like-a-warp-core-explosion sex..._

Slamming her toy box closed and placing it back into her dresser, Uhura yawned. Her man problems wouldn’t be solved in a day. She really needed to get some rest. After a hot shower, she was in bed and asleep before she knew it.

That night, she dreamed about her counterpart, different than she, in the universe where there was no longer a planet called Vulcan. She was older, but still wore her hair in the youthful way that Uhura had back during her Academy years… long, in a high ponytail… not elaborately coiffed like most of the women in the ‘Fleet in their reality.

She dreamed that she was that other Nyota, sleeping in her Spock’s arms, without a care in the world…

A world where that was possible. A world without the complications of _this_ reality.

The next morning, she was determined not to look at Spock on the bridge. Praying to God that the morning would be routine, she hoped that she wouldn’t have to communicate with him again before he went down to Elba II with the captain and the rest of the landing party.

Unfortunately, it was not to be.

 

*

 

“Lieutenant Uhura, I want to see you in my office.”

“Now, sir?”

“Immediately.”

She looked up. Spock seemed impassive as usual… so why did she feel as if he was angry, frustrated, conflicted, and aroused? Where was such a thing coming from? It was as if she could hear his thoughts...

“Right away, sir,” was her response, as she put down her earpiece and followed him into the lift.

 

*

 

“What’s this all about, Mr. Spock? Is this something to do with Communications, or...”

They were in the turbolift. This time, it was he who did not look at her. But Uhura couldn’t stop herself from staring… her mind was swirling with a foreign, unsettling emotion that felt _green._ That was the only way she could describe it. And green was one of the last colors one expected to perceive on a starship…

He strode out of the turbolift as it opened. Nyota followed behind. He was walking so fast that she had to take two steps to match each one of his. It was that way until they reached his office.

“Computer, lock door. Soundproofing, 100%.”

_Uh-oh. Whatever conversation he wants to have, he doesn’t want anyone else to hear._

“Spock, what’s going on? Why am I down here when we’re hours away from arriving at that planet? Why are you…”

His mouth was clamped on hers before she could react. Uhura felt as if she was being set aflame by his mouth and hands anew as he hauled her onto his desk, scattering PADDs and paperwork everywhere.

“Spock!” she cried out with a gasp, as he palmed her ass. “You can’t just…”

She felt, as well as _heard_ , her panties rip.

Her mouth dropped open. All the better for him to claim treasure there, plundering with tongue and teeth, nibbling until a single drop of her iron-rich red blood beaded on her lower lip, his to lick and taste.

Through a haze of lust, Uhura expected him to answer her then, to say _something_ that explained his actions.

Instead, all she received was a growl… a growl that was nearly _feral…_ and his fingers, preparing her beneath the skirts of her uniform… although the way she’d lost her panties, combined with her frustration the night before, ensured that she needed no preparation at all.

She named him the devil he was. “Waovu!”

He ignored her, pulling her to the very edge of the desk. He pulled her dress off and spread her thighs open, impossibly wide. Nyota felt utterly, completely exposed, and totally vulnerable. She was angry that he was not talking to her, that he never wooed her with pretty words…

_If you do not consent, I will cease my actions._

Uhura heard his voice as if he had spoken aloud, but of course, he had not.

 _Get out of my head, Spock!_ Her nails pressed into his back.

 _You are the witch who has driven me beyond madness, who has reduced me to a V’tosh ka’tur,_ she heard as his mouth found her neck and shoulder _. You engulfed me first. Now you insist upon flaunting your charms to another._

_Flaunting my WHAT? You’re the one who won’t let me breathe!_

Uhura gasped at his entrance. It came without preamble, and there was nothing slow or gentle about it. Yet instead of the pain she expected to feel, she felt naught but the desire that had eluded her the night before.

_This damned Vulcan bastard’s got me dickwhipped!_

_That is a highly inaccurate assessment, Nyota. I am not a bastard. My parents were bonded and wed… as we shall be._

Uhura couldn’t help her moans and whimpers. He felt so good to her, filling her completely, driving her out of her _mind._ Part of her was furious that he’d violated her boundaries, while the rest was reveling in the sexy, unexpected moment.

 _Married? Bonded? I find that difficult to believe,_ she thought at him defiantly, flexing her inner muscles around him, eliciting another growl. _You like having sex with me in private, but at least he doesn’t mind being seen with me in public!_

Spock’s teeth scraped the skin of her shoulder with a barely veiled threat. _You will not persist in this illogical affair. I forbid it._

_I told you I needed some space! You are not my father!_

_Yet I am your mate. And these are dangerous games that you play._

Uhura’s eyes fluttered closed as his head bent down, so that he could flick his tongue across each nipple. Then she began to scream as he slipped his fingers down to roll her clit between them. His fingers and his lok then commenced to wring out three quick, explosive climaxes from her, one after the other, crescendoing and descresendoing until Uhura was a shaking, shuddering, shivering _mess._ Once he was satisfied that her body could take no more at once, he came, pouring his hot seed into her keshtan-ur, clutching her hips and claiming her lips once more.

Slipping out of her before knotting, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple.

“His scent was not on you,” Spock said hoarsely after a moment or two had passed, as if that was enough of an explanation for his actions.

“Why would his _scent_ be on me? _We just had dinner!”_

“You still do not understand. I am more Vulcan than human, in physiology as well as psychology. He flaunted his conquest of you in front of me…”

“He _what?”_ Uhura, heedless of her state of undress, put her hands on her hips. “Spock, _what_ did you say to him?”

“I issued a formal reprimand and removed him from the landing party. Considering his words and actions, he received more generous handling than warranted…”

“Wait, wait.” She held up a hand, shaking her head. “ _Spock._ Do not tell me that you _abused_ your authority by accusing M’Benga of doing so! Don’t tell me that you’re willing to damage a good man’s _career_ simply because he _smiled_ at me, and we shared a little ugali!”

“Forgive my ignorance of human custom, Nyota, but I do not consider a kiss ‘a little ugali.’”

“Spock, this is exactly why we can’t be together! When you act like this, you’re not the Spock I fell for! In fact, I barely know you at all!” She folded her arms. “You need to go to M’Benga, apologize, and put him back on that landing party…”

“Negative. I will not.”

“Then we’re over.” She pulled her dress over her head.

He handed her bra back to her. (When had he taken it off?)

“According to you, Nyota, we are ‘over’ right now.” He reached to assist her in putting back on her bra...

 _Slap._ “Don’t touch me."

The response she received was a threatening growl that wet her keshtan-ur anew.

“Nyota, it is advisable for you not to attempt to hit me again if you wish to finish the remaining hours of your shift.”

“Vulcans like playing rough… I get it, turns you on… _stop touching me,_ then!”

He refrained, holding up his hands as he turned to zip his slacks once more. But the corners of his mouth quirked upward in what she now knew to be amusement.

Uhura felt endless energy as she jumped down from the desk, straightening her dress and patting down her hair. Spock was exasperating, and demanding, and arrogant... and his possessiveness was way too much, but he was also sex on two legs. He never ceased to surprise her.

She joined him in setting his office to rights. Then they headed down the corridor and toward the turbolift. Only the most discerning eye would be able to tell anything was amiss.

It wasn’t until they reached the turbolift that Spock spoke aloud again, stopping the lift in the middle of the ride.

“Nyota, I have a favor that I would ask of you.”

Uhura smirked. “Are you serious right now, Spock? What we just did didn’t qualify?”

“I believe the human phrase that applies is ‘humor me.’”

She waited.

“While I am away on this mission, do not wash.”

“You want me to do _what?”_ Uhura said, incredulous once again. (It seemed that she was staying in that state more and more lately.)

“I wish for you to refrain from washing. When I return from the planet, I wish for my scent to remain on you….”

She couldn’t help it. She threw back her head and laughed.

“You really aren’t human, are you?”

He seemed pleased at that. “Thank you, Nyota. I believe that is the most gratifying compliment you have paid me since we first became acquainted.”

“Okay, Mr. NonTerran, I’ll do it on two conditions.”

“You have only to name them, ashal-veh.”

“One: you will tell Jabilo M’Benga that you regret snapping at him, that you are rescinding the reprimand with a warning, and that he is reinstated to that landing party.”

“That is three conditions, Nyota, and the doctor’s inattention to the task of replicating the medicine was…”

“Nope. You want to sniff my stuff when you get back? Then be the Spock that I fell for and admired so much… hard, but _fair._ The Enterprise has the best crew in the ‘Fleet, and Jabilo is one of our best doctors. He doesn’t deserve your censure just because he’s interested in me.”

Spock seemed to consider this.

“Very well, Nyota. What is your second condition?”

“I’m going out with Jabilo again once we depart from Elba II.”

“Negative.”

“ _Spock.”_

“That is indeed my name.”

“Stop being such a smart ass! I like Jabilo’s company! We had such a great time together. We thought we’d do it again, next week…”

“Human women are not unlike Vulcan females,” Spock observed. “You both revel in seeing the male of your species spill their blood over your affections.”

“You just said that you’re not a male of my species.”

“ _Any_ male, Nyota. Having you test me in such a fashion has been most distracting. It is best that you accept the inevitable, so that we may establish an optimal routine to balance our duties with our relationship.”

“Spock, we don’t have a relationship! We’re just having a lot of sex…”

“Correction. We do not have the relationship that you expected. What we have developed is infinitely more gratifying.”

“Maybe it is for you, mister!” She folded her arms. “You never took me to dinner on the observation deck!”

“Yet for 1.73 years, I have instructed you on the ka’athyra. Did none of those practice sessions, many of which were followed with a meal, count as a ‘date?’”

Uhura hesitated. She had not thought of that.

“Not if I didn’t know how you felt about me!”

She bit her lip, tasting the blood of the fresh wound.

His mouth quirked again.

“You are the most illogical woman I’ve ever known.” His thumb came up to touch her lip. “You have undone nearly four decades of my attempts to be wholly Vulcan, to seek the path of logic. You frustrate me with your illogical reasoning and behavior, yet I find you infinitely more delightful than I did when we were merely friends.”

Uhura didn’t say anything in response. Her hand came up slowly to caress the soft hair at the nape of his neck, then she rubbed the back of it against his ear.

Spock leaned into her touch. “If I agree to dine with you in the captain’s observation lounge as our schedules permit, will you cease your merciless teasing of a man for whom you only feel friendship? It is beneath you.”

“But that’s just it, Spock. I don’t _know_ that all M’Benga and I have is friendship. You’re sure, because for Vulcans, it’s all or nothing. The human heart works differently.”

“I will not abide his misconceptions much longer, Nyota,” Spock said, starting the lift once more.

“Then you’re going to have to fight for me, won’t you?” she told him. “Right now, he’s offering me everything a girl dreams of…”

“You are not a girl, nor are you a child,” Spock observed. “You are a woman.”

He did not say it, but as they exited the lift, Nyota heard what remained unspoken.

 _You are more than_ a _woman. You are_ my _woman._

Mine _._

 

*

 

Scotty had the conn. He never liked to sit in the big chair, much preferring to be down in the engine room. However, as second officer, when Kirk and Spock were both in a landing party, the job fell to him.

Uhura watched the chief engineer shake his head as the viewscreen switched from the asylum on Elba II to the planet.

“I gave him the sign,” he said to McCoy, who’d joined them on the bridge. “Why dinna Kirk give the countersign?”

The doctor looked worried. “Something’s wrong.”

“Using the chess problem was the captain’s idea,” Scotty frowned. “He could nae have forgotten, and I don’t think he was testing me.”

He turned to Uhura.

“Lieutenant, re-establish communication with the planet.”

Uhura hit the familiar switches and buttons of her console. “Aye, aye sir.”

After inquiring Sulu about the status of the planet, and ascertaining that no one could beam down, Scotty and McCoy talked about the idea of blasting through the shields.

Sitting at communications and listening to the conversation, Uhura couldn’t help but feel helpless. If there was trouble, Kirk, Spock, and M’Benga were all down on that planet. It was no Class M planet with breathable air, but one where anyone exposed to the atmosphere would suffocate in a matter of minutes. She didn’t understand why the landing party had been pared down just because Dr. Cory had requested it. It just wasn’t safe!

The hours wore on. Beta shift was placed on standby as the senior officers remained in position. There was nothing to do except wait and repeatedly hail the planet. Every half hour, Scotty would ask her if there was any change in communications status, and each time, her reply was the same.

“No, Mr. Scott. Still no response from the planet.”

Scotty turned to Sulu. “Sensor readings?”

“The force field is weakest on the far side of the planet,” Sulu advised. “We could send down a shuttlecraft, with a team in special gear.”

“It won’t work, Scotty,” McCoy said, ever the doctor. “They’d have to cover thousands of miles in that poisonous atmosphere before they’d reach the asylum.”

Uhura was horrified.

“Aye, you’re right,” said Scotty. “Even if they made it, they couldn’t carry anything powerful enough to break through the dome of the asylum.”

McCoy didn’t think that was a good idea. “Probably kill Jim and Spock, and the whole team along with them.”

“Doctor,” Scotty said gloomily, “they may already be dead.”

 

*

 

The horrible suspense about the fate of the landing party continued. Once again, Kirk appeared on the screen, and once again, would not provide the countersign. Although she knew it was not procedure, and could potentially compromise the ship if Kirk was under duress, Uhura thought about arguing for beaming up the team without the countersign. She was that worried.

After that, Scotty ordered Uhura to monitor the science station. It was indicative of the dire nature of the situation that he did not call for one of Spock’s relief officers. All bridge officers were countertrained on each other’s stations. All the same, she’d never sat at the science console. Everything about it reminded her of Spock.

 _You’ve got find a way to get back here in one piece, sugar,_ she thought helplessly. _And while you’re at it, bring back the captain and the doctor, too. I don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t._

Suddenly, she felt warmth flood her thoughts and consciousness, and felt reassured. It was as if he could _hear_ her…

But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it?

“We’re running out of time,” said Scotty. “I’d be willing tae entertain options.”

They were all silent.

“How about something from the alternate universe?” Bones asked. “We have all that advanced software lurking in our mainframe now."

Scotty shook his head. “Too dangerous when we dinnae know the effects.”

“Even if it’s something minor?” asked Bones. “We all read the files…”

Uhura spoke up. “My counterpart’s systems had some kind of planetary broadcast that translated into all languages present,” she said. “It’s far more advanced than any of our communications systems, but I could try to modify the existing system with my staff.”

“ETA, Miss Uhura?” asked Scotty.

She shook her head. “Several hours minimum, with no guarantee of success.”

Scotty nodded. “Stand by, Lieutenant. Anything on your end, Mr. Sulu?”

“Their phasers are far more powerful than ours, but I don’t think we’ve got an energy source for anything like that,” said Sulu. “I’d been meaning to send you the specs…”

“All in good time. Let’s get our captain and team back, then talk about it.”

“What about that transwarp beaming equation you were telling me about at dinner, Scott?” McCoy wanted to know. “We could just beam them up to the ship…”

“Not unless you want their molecules scattered across the poisonous atmosphere, or else floating in deep space!”

“I have every faith in you, Scotty, and I know the captain does too.”

He was shaking his head. “Aye, the transwarp is a curiosity, and one that bears examining, but not in an emergency like this one.”

Suddenly, the ship shook.

“There’s been an explosion on Elba II!” exclaimed Sulu.

Uhura thought her heart might have stopped beating.

“0.95!” shouted Scotty.

“It must have wiped out everything,” McCoy swore, clearly upset.

Now Uhura _knew_ her heart had stopped.

“Probe,” said Scotty to Sulu. “Is that force field still in place over the asylum?”

“Yes, sir. Solidly,” was the helmsman’s reply.

_Look down into the scanner, Nyota. State what you view aloud._

She was startled, but followed the order as if Spock was still on the bridge.

“Life continues to exist on the planet,” she told Scotty, not fully believing the readings she saw.

_I am unharmed, k’diwa. The captain and the doctor are as well. We will join you shortly._

As Scotty and Sulu attempted to use the Enterprise’s phasers to cut through the force field, Uhura believed that calm, deep voice in the back of her mind. Her mind, body, and soul flooded with relief, and she relaxed from the tense feeling she’d had all day. She knew, however, that if she told anyone, they would call her mad.

Sure enough, within fifteen minutes, they received the news they’d been waiting for all day.

_“Spock to Enterprise.”_

“Enterprise here,” said Scotty. “Queen to queen’s level three.”

_“Queen to king’s level one.”_

Uhura’s eyes closed as she heard Spock give the countersign. It was all over.

 

*

 

Much later, in the depths of the night as the Enterprise sped away from Elba II, leaving a copious amount of the miracle cure behind, as well as many healing inmates, Uhura realized that she was no longer alone.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes…

“You did not wash.”

Yawn. “You’re just lucky that I take my showers in the morning, mister.”

Spock was removing his boots. His tunic was already off.

“I will not apologize for entering your quarters without permission, k’diwa,” he said. “I could not risk being seen. However, if you wish for me to leave…”

“Now, I didn’t say that, did I?” A second yawn, bigger than the first, split her face. “You’re welcome if you’re planning to sleep or meditate. I worked a double and a half thanks to that madman down on Elba, so if you’re looking for anything else...”

“I am not,” was Spock’s reply. “I simply wish to lie with you. There were several points during the mission when our safe return was by no means assured.”

She threw back her covers in invitation. “How is Jabilo?”

“Dr. M’Benga was also unharmed.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed. “You do not mind if I do not disrobe? As much as I desire to feel your skin against mine, your quarters are rather brisk in temperature.”

“We were sweating on the bridge so much that I turned down the temp in here. You can make it warmer, if you want…”

He got into bed, then gathered her into his embrace.

“I am gratified by your suggestion, Nyota. However, I find that I possess all the warmth I need at the moment.”

And Uhura drifted back to sleep, perfectly content in his arms.

 

*

 

“Charlene, there’s something I want to tell you.”

The engineer looked up from where she was helping Uhura blow-dry and straighten her thick, dark hair in Nyota’s quarters a few days later. “You can tell me anything, Ny.”

She sighed. “I think I’ve done something stupid, Char. It might even jeopardize my career. But I need to tell _someone…_ we’re out of subspace communication range with Earth, and I don’t want to deplete my credits calling Makena for advice. Christine and I are on the outs… Janice can’t hold _water,_ so…”

“Guess I’m it,” said Lieutenant Masters. “Listen, Ny, whatever it is, I doubt it’s as serious as you think it is…”

“I think I’m falling in love with Spock.”

Masters took one look at Uhura. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh, good one, girl! You got me this time! You had me going for a minute there, sounding like Chris when you two aren’t even really speaking right now… wait a minute…you’re not... _Nyota_ Upenda Uhura! Are you serious?” Then, “Is it one sided?”

She shook her head.

“Oh my God! How serious is it? Have you two… you know…”

Uhura cocked her head to the side.

“ _Oh my GOD!”_

“Stop that,” fussed Uhura. “It’s a huge mess, Charlene. I’m not sure I _want_ to be in love with him.”

“Fair enough. Christine's going to be heartbroken, that's for sure... wait a sec… didn’t you _just go out_ with Dr. M’Benga? Ship gossip’s been buzzing that you two are an item now!”

Nod. “And I have another date scheduled with Jabilo. Tomorrow night.”

Uhura told Masters all about the past two weeks. Leaving out the nitty-gritty and the details (she didn’t think Spock would appreciate her sharing _anything_ about their times together), she filled her friend in on everything that had happened between herself, Spock, and M’Benga.

“No wonder you’ve been so out of it lately, Ny! So let me get this straight. You’re dating Dr. M’Benga openly, but you’re dating Spock too, in secret…”

Uhura laughed.

“Thanks for making me seem like the world’s biggest whore!”

“It’s the 23rd century,” Masters said practically. “Look, if we were dirtside, no one would know your business unless you volunteered it, and if you did, no one would _care_ . But since we’re on a starship, I hope you’re prepared for most of the girls on the ship to absolutely hate you more than they already do. Half the men on the ship are panting after you. And now you’ve got two _fine_ men wrapped around your little finger… when most of these girls would _kill_ to have just one of them in bed!”

“Including you?” Uhura joked, narrowing her eyes.

“Stop it. My name is not Christine Chapel. You know what my type is…”

“Brilliant engineer, heavy Scottish accent, familiar with a kilt and bagpipes?”

“Monty is… sweet.” Masters smiled to herself, and Uhura thought that it spoke volumes. “I’m as happy as you are, girl. Probably a lot less conflicted, though. Your situation is complicated… but I think you’ve made up your mind, even if you don’t know it yet.”

“I have?”

“You said you were _dating_ Jabilo. But you began this conversation by telling me that you’re falling for Spock.”

“I don’t know, Charlene! I think… maybe it’s the mystique that he’s kinda wrapped about himself on the ship, along with the sex, you know? I mean, it had been a while for both of us, and you know what _that’s_ like after a long dry spell… it’s like being at a feast after a drought!”

“Yes, thanks to a certain engineer, I certainly do!”

“But I don’t want to let good sex cloud my judgment. Jabilo is a good man, and the last thing I want to do is hurt him. And who’s to say that this thing with Spock will last?”

Charlene shook her head. “Nyota, Nyota, you’re not being fair to either of them. You’re clearly head over heels for Mr. Spock. Even the way you look when you talk about him shows. Your entire face changes… you don’t look like that when you’re talking about M’Benga…”

Uhura sighed again.

“It’d be easier if I were in love with Jabilo. Being with Spock would change everything, Charlene.”

“Yeah, I hear you. But do you think that you’re falling for Spock because you’ve been intimate with him, and not with M’Benga? You know how we women can be sometimes about that…”

She shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m a little afraid of sleeping with Jabilo now. I mean, I’m in over my head as it is. If anyone finds out about this mess, I’m going to have to transfer to another ship.”

 _Not to mention the fact I think Spock would be able to tell,_ Uhura thought. There were little things that were starting to add up, from his remarks about his scent on her… and the odd thoughts that popped into her head…

_“In over my head” is putting things rather lightly._

“I realize that interspecies relationships are hard,” Masters told her. “I dated an Andorian while I was working on my doctorate, and let me tell you, it was a challenge! But Mr. Spock’s parents seemed to be in love when they visited. Everyone was talking about that finger-touching thing they kept doing…”

Uhura’s face heated. “That’s how they kiss.”

“Okay, girl! Me, I’d miss the other kind…”

“Now, I didn’t say that’s the _only_ way they kiss.”

Masters stared at her. “Oh my God. I don’t even think I want to know… because I want to keep being your friend… wait, I _do_ want to know! Just tell me this. Is it like we always said, that still water runs deep?”

Uhura covered her smile with a hand.

Masters screamed. “That good, huh? You’d better spill! I’ve told you all about Monty!”

“He’s… nothing like I thought he’d be,” Uhura admitted. “I mean, he’s just… Char, there aren’t even words… I know that I’m scared. And wondering exactly what it all means.”

“It means he’s probably serious about you. I don’t think Spock would go after you if he didn’t have some kind of intentions. Those Vulcans, they don’t seem to be the type to do casual relationships.”

Uhura nodded. “They aren’t. He’s said as much.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“It’s just… inconvenient. Think about it, Charlene! If I start dating Jabilo, everyone on the ship will be rooting for us. It would be the romance to end all romances on the Enterprise. Nothing much would change in my life. I’d have a boyfriend, but he’d do his job, and I’d do mine, and we’d have off-duty time and shore leave together.

“Jabilo’s kind and thoughtful. He knows how much I miss home, and he shares that, too. We come from similar traditions, and have similar interests. He’s tall and handsome and strong… pretty much the kind of guy I dreamed up growing up. Mama and Baba would be over the _moon,_ not to mention Bibi… we could raise our kids speaking Swahili and Standard, and it would be just wonderful. Everything that I always wanted.”

Charlene smirked. “And Spock?”

“Well, first, there’s the problem of my career. The minute that people find out, they’re going to start questioning every performance evaluation he’s given me since I set foot on the Enterprise. They’ll scrutinize everything going forward. If my department gets commended, people will accuse him of favoritism… he’s so _Vulcan_ in his role as executive officer, and doesn’t cut anyone slack, so even when my people haul ass and improve their efficiency, people will wonder, you _know_ they will…

“And then there’s the endless curiosity. Vulcans are so damn _private_ about all aspects of their culture beyond their adherence to logic that people are going to be speculating all about our relationship. I mean, on Earth, we’re just a century and a half beyond thinking that people with our skin color are lesser… think about all the prejudices that exist between our cultures! Vulcans _still_  look down on humans, and humans are _still_ suspicious of Vulcan privacy. If I were to end up with Spock, not only would we face prejudice, any kids we had would too.

“Finally, there’s the thing I’m least proud of.”

“Ny, it’s just me. Speak your mind.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with a Vulcan! I mean, I majored in xenolinguistics, and I think I’m openminded, but… being with him is different. Not in a _bad_ way, just in a non-human way. There are things he does and says that remind me that he grew up more than a dozen light-years away.”

“And yet, you sit next to him every day on the same starship,” Masters pointed out. “Nyota, you’re overthinking this. Go out with Jabilo again, focus on how you feel, and most importantly, be _honest_ with him.”

“I don’t know…”

“You will once you get closure, one way or the other. Just be honest with yourself, and both of them! The rest will fall into place.”

 

*

 

Instead of traditional garb, Uhura wore a form-fitting dress made of material that her bibi sent her. This time, M’Benga told her that he had a picnic prepared for her, and the yellow material reminded her of a sunny day.

 _I love deep space,_ she thought, dusting a final application of powder on her face. _But sometimes, I miss the sunshine, the wind, and the rain…_

When the chime sounded, M’Benga was there. In his dark civvies, he looked like a prince from one of her illustrated fairytale books.

“You render me speechless,” he said, taking her hand and twirling her around. “There are no words in any language for your beauty.”

She smiled. “Flatterer.”

“Vaksurik,” he replied in Vulcan, shaking his head with an exaggerated whistle. And then softer, in Swahili: “Nzuri.”

“See, you did find words! I knew you could do it… thank you, Jabilo. You’re looking rather fine yourself tonight.”

As M’Benga escorted her to the observation deck, Uhura could sense everyone’s eyes as they passed. There was no privacy on a spaceship. By the end of gamma shift, everyone would know that they’d gone on a second date…

She shook those thoughts out of her head. What she did during off-duty time was no one’s business but her own.

The observation deck, which had been humming with life during their dinner before the latest mission, was curiously empty. Instead of people, there was classical jazz from 300 years before playing over the intercom.

“I thought that you might like to do a little dancing before dinner.”

Dancing! Uhura loved it almost as much as singing. When was the last time she’d cut a rug?

“May I have this dance, pretty lady?” he asked with a slight bow.

She beamed. “I’d be delighted.”

The song that he chose to play first was more than 300 years old. At the time it was written, people considered orchestra composers like Bach and Mozart classical, and jazz merely the music of the times. In the centuries since, not only had jazz gone all over the world, it was often played throughout the Federation and enjoyed as the epitome of Earth music.

As the orchestral music swelled, Uhura closed her eyes, determined to shut out everything else and lose herself in his arms.

_Oh, the good life…_

_Full of fun, seems to be the ideal_

_Mm, the good life…_

_Lets you hide all the sadness you feel…_

Unbidden, Uhura’s eyes filled with tears. She tried to hold them back. Nothing would ruin her perfect, romantic moment!

_You won’t really fall in love_

_For you can’t take the chance_

_So please be honest with yourself_

_Don’t try to fake romance…_

It’s just a song, she told herself. A lovely song from a different time and place… she would listen to the violins soaring, _not_ the words!

He was gazing down at her, his heart in his eyes.

“Why are you crying?”

“T-The song,” she stammered. “It’s always been one of my favorites.”

She closed her eyes as the tears spilled over.

His lips met hers. Uhura relaxed into the kiss, willing her guilt to float away into nothing. But at the back of her mind, she heard a familiar baritone join the singer.

_Please remember I still want you, and in case you wonder why…_

She frowned. Because that voice had sung the end of that song _in Vulcan._

Impossible!

Uhura was fuming. Was Spock listening in? If so, how? Was she to have no privacy? Or was he somehow spying on her?

“Nyota, what’s wrong?” asked Jabilo.

“Nothing. I’m sorry…” she looked over her shoulder. “Is there anyone else in here?”

“There shouldn’t be. I reserved the room for three hours.” He smiled at her. “I didn’t want us to be interrupted.”

They moved to a blanket that he’d placed on the floor. He'd replicated some of her favorite foods from home, and even had poured two small glasses of changa’a.

_It’s as if he's read my mind. So thoughtful!_

_He cannot read your mind. And as for 'thoughtful,' I submit to you that he is thinking of one thing only._

Uhura wondered if she was losing it. All the same, she thought back defiantly.  _As if you aren't thinking about that exact same thing. And more! At least_  he  _took me out to dinner twice first!_

Suddenly, her head went quiet. Score one for Nyota, even if she was _totally_ losing it.

”I thought we might drink to your good health… and your beauty,” Jabilo was telling her with a smile, lifting his glass to clink with hers. “Thank you for agreeing to this.”

Uhura smiles, sipping the strong drink with flavors so reminiscent from home.

As she does so, unbidden, that same voice entered her mind once again.

 _“And Uhura, whose name means freedom…_ ‘ _She walks in beauty, like the night…”_

At first, she thinks it’s a memory, one influenced by the man in question being possessed at the time. But then, the voice continued.

”... _Of cloudless climes and starry skies... and all that’s best of dark and bright... meets in her aspect and her eyes.”_

Startled, Uhura set the glass down heavily on the floor. That part had _not_ been what Kollos had said while he was in Spock's body. It was the rest of the poem.

Vulcans were touch telepaths! They were not able to communicate over long distances, or even across a room, without contact! She shouldn’t be hearing Spock's voice in her head. Normally, she’d blame the changa’a, but it had been barely a moment since she’d had any...

”Miss Uhura? Is everything all right?”

“I…” she blinked. “Yes, I’m all right. Just a little tired, I suppose. Thank you for being so kind.”

As they ate dinner, their conversation flowed as easily as it usually did. They talked about home, his travels, and their shared appreciation for Vulcan language and culture. Which brought them to the latest mission.

“I heard you were commended by the captain,” Uhura noted. “For your exceptional service during the Elba II mission.”

M’Benga chuckled. “Captain Kirk’s being generous. I was taken into custody by that crazy ass Garth along with the rest of the medical staff. Not even sure about all the details of how the captain and Mr. Spock got us out of there.”

Heat flooded Uhura’s cheeks. “Oh, I’m sure you’re being modest.”

“Nah, the commander figured it out. He usually does.” Now it was his turn to frown. “But talk about a hardass! He almost took me off the mission because the replicator failure meant the hypos were late.”

“He did?”

M’Benga shook his head. “And man, was he ever mad at me! From the look on his face, I thought he was going rip my head off.”

Uhura fought the urge to squirm. “Vulcans don’t have facial expressions…”

“Oh, but this one did! He accused me of favoritism when it came to you. Threatened to reprimand me, but then, he called me to his office right before the team left. Told me he’d changed his mind, but would let me off this time with a warning.”

She couldn’t help but remember what had gone in Spock’s office a few short hours earlier than _that_ meeting. “Did he really?”

“Yes, really. I guess I’m not special. He’s hard on everyone on the ship. I feel sorry for his future crew once he becomes a captain.”

“I don’t think he wants to be,” said Uhura before she thought. Then, at M’Benga’s curious look, she added, “He prefers being first officer so that he can still be a scientist.”

“What’s it like, working on the bridge with him? You know him better than most. I mean, you’ve even learned the ka’athyra! Are you the only human to have done so?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’m still not very good, but Mr. Spock assures me that my playing is adequate… by human standards.” Chuckle.

”He is a good friend of yours,” observed M’Benga.

Uhura’s heartbeat increased at the sudden change in topic. The very last thing she wanted to do with M’Benga was discuss Spock.

“We’ve sat next to each other on the bridge every day for the past two and a half years. I suppose that all of the senior officers have gotten to know each other on this mission… and let me tell you, that Sulu, he’s...”

”But not all the senior officers have spent enough time in your quarters to teach you the Vulcan lyre, Miss Uhura. Have you even _been_ in Mr. Sulu’s quarters? You may be one of the only people to have spent any time in Mr. Spock’s, except for Dr. McCoy and the captain.”

“Vulcans are extremely private people,” Uhura defended. “I’m one of the only people on the ship fluent in the language of his people, Jabilo…”

”As am I. Yet the commander and I have barely spoken ten minutes together, during all the time that I have served on the Enterprise.”

Pause.

“Forgive me, Nyota, but I must ask if there’s anything going on between you and Mr. Spock.”

Uhura nearly lost her changa’a. She coughed.

“I beg your pardon, Dr. M’Benga! What kind of question is that?”

”An unfair one, but one that I need answered. I must be honest with you about my feelings. I don’t know when I began to want something more from our friendship, but I do know that friendship is not enough where you’re concerned. I’ve never met another woman like you, Nyota. We have so much in common… you’re from Kenya, and I’m from Uganda. We both share a love for Vulcan culture. And we are both the best in Starfleet at what we do. We could be incredible together.” He swallowed. “But I’m not sure how you feel about me.”

”Jabilo, I…” Uhura licked her lips uncertainly. “I think the world of you. And I need to tell you that I…”

Before she can say anything else, he covered her mouth with his. Again.

While M’Benga’s kiss was not unpleasant, Uhura instantly knew that she couldn’t continue to lead him on. It wouldn’t be fair…

...especially when her head was suddenly flooded with vivid images and sensory impressions from her times with _another_ man on the ship.

_She shuddered again, reveling in the moment, sizzling beneath the blackness of his gaze, reaching out a hand to run her fingers through the hair on his chest, opening her legs again in silent invitation..._

_After he’d wrung out her pleasure once more from the sweetest part of her, she rode him until he spilled deep inside her, one hand on her deliciously curved hip, the other on her psi-points..._

_Her eyes fluttered closed as his head bent down, so that he could flick his tongue across each sensitized nipple. She screamed as he slipped his fingers down to roll her clit between them. His fingers and his lok then commenced to wring out three quick, explosive climaxes from her, one after the other, crescendoing and descresendoing..._

Uhura found her body responding as if _he_ was in the room. Gooseflesh erupted on her arms, the tips of her breasts became hard, aching twin marbles. Her white silk panties started to saturate.

Worst of all, it was if her _mind_ started to _bend_ like a willow tree in the wind, prepared, even expecting to be touched...

Sensing her arousal, M’Benga drew back. He whispered huskily, “May I walk you to your quarters?"

She knew she should say no. She knew what would happen once they got there, what _shouldn’t_ happen, especially given the state of her mind just then. She’d discussed this very thing with Charlene! Nyota Uhura didn’t care for the game of musical chairs as a child, and didn’t wish to play ‘musical beds’ as a woman. She was, in fact, a one-man kind of lady.

Uhura was neither fair, nor a maiden. She’d had boyfriends, and she’d had a few casual, fun flings in the past. But since becoming an officer, she’d prided herself in being the consummate professional. There had been more than a few men interested on the ship over the years, but she’d _never_ gone out with any of them, and she certainly hadn’t _slept_ with any of them… until this.

But if this… this _thing_ with Spock wasn’t as serious as he was making it out to be, why not spend the evening with Jabilo? Perhaps he was just what she needed to get over Spock.

She would spend the night with M’Benga, and get Spock out of her system, before she was driven mad by the intensity of his affection for her.

Her decision was made.

They had just as much of an audience on the way back from the observation deck as before. However, M’Benga was too busy looking at her, and she was too busy dealing with the tumult in her mind.

They arrived at her quarters. She keyed in her code. The doors opened with a swish...

And there sat Spock, as if he had been waiting for them.

 

*

 

Spock looked up from where he was sitting, in the same spot that Uhura had found him in the week before. (The only difference was that this time, he was still in his science blues.)

His presence startled them both. He spoke before either Uhura or M’Benga could say a word.

“Good evening, Doctor. I am most gratified that you have escorted Lieutenant Uhura back to her quarters. It seems that she has forgotten her ka’athyra lesson today.”

M’Benga began to protest. “Excuse me, sir, but _what?”_

“I did not think that I needed to repeat myself, Dr. M’Benga, but I will, if necessary, for your benefit.”

“Can’t she have her lesson tomorrow, Mr. Spock? And by the way, do you _always_ hang out at her quarters when she’s not here?”

“I fail to see how that is any of your concern, _doctor.”_

Uhura’s head snapped toward Spock. Had he just _snapped_ at Jabilo?

_If this is a tennis match, then I’m the ball._

“Fine,” M’Benga growled, pulling out the chair from in front of Nyota’s console, and sitting down in it. “I’ve always wanted to learn the ka’athyra myself. I’ll stay for the lesson if you don’t mind.”

“But I do ‘mind,’ Dr. M’Benga. A private lesson is distinctive because it is, in fact, private.”

M’Benga’s eyes narrowed. “Why is it so important for you to be alone with Miss Uhura?”

“Your question is irrelevant, doctor.”

“It isn’t _irrelevant_ when you seem to have a problem with my interest in Lieutenant Uhura! You called it ‘prurient,’ and yet, this is the first time I’ve ever been in her room! How many times have _you_ been in here, Mr. Spock?”

“Dr. M’Benga, you are insubordinate, once again…”

“And you can stick your ‘insubordination’ where the sun don’t shine! At least the entire ship knows that I’ve got a thing for her! I’m not the one sneaking around behind everyone’s back, snapping at anyone who gets a laugh out of her! If you have a problem with me seeing Nyota, then just say it…” he folded his arms, “ _Sir.”_

Spock’s expression did not change, but his eyes were cold.

“If you are quite done with your illogical rant, please understand that I have no objection to you ‘seeing’ Nyota, as ‘seeing’ is indicative of optimal vision. I do not even object to you admiring her, as it further indicates discerning and prudent judgment.

“However, if by ‘seeing’ her, you are making reference to your persistence in this _inane_ and frankly quite _exhausting_ human courtship ritual, I must inform you that not only do I have, as you say, “a problem,” it is a ‘problem’ that I am quite prepared to resolve.”

Uhura’s jaw dropped. “ _Spock!”_

“You can’t threaten me,” said M’Benga quietly. “These are _Nyota’s_ quarters, not yours! I’m not leaving until she asks me to.”

“Suffice it to say that you can be forcibly removed, Dr. M’Benga.”

“Spock, stop this, _now…”_ She turned to M’Benga. “Can I just… see you in the morning?”

M’Benga looked at her in disbelief. “Hold on, Nyota! I know you’re not going to kick _me_ out, while we’re on a _date,_ and he gets to remain in here?!”

“I know. I’m sorry, Jabilo, but Spock and I, we…” she bit her lip, “we need to talk.”

The doctor looked from Uhura, to Spock, then back again.

”I see,” he said, not even bothering to conceal the anger in his tone. “Good night, Miss Uhura.”

”Good night, Doctor,” she said, not taking her eyes from Spock.

Just before the doors shut, placing a barrier between the good doctor, and the communications and science officers, Uhura said, “Spock, what have you done to my _head?”_

It wasn’t until later that she realized that M’Benga heard exactly what she’d said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops. Looks like Uhura's about to have a major mess on her hands...
> 
> Only three more chapters to go! Trying to finish up before this month gets really busy. We'll see.
> 
> Can't believe so many cool people are reading! Your comments inspire me to write! So you have AdelphaHighbrow, CassoBlanca, Jades, Great+Story, KerryLamb, Yalegirl03, KerryLamb and Beccs to thank for this update.


	8. I Want You (Reprise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock's POV. (Apologies for taking so long!)

 

She was radiant in her fury, an utterly spectacular creature. This illogical, dulcet voiced, fragrant, _exceedingly_ aesthetically pleasing human woman was the most fascinating phenomenon that Spock had ever encountered in his 39 years.

Standing before him, he observed how petite she was in comparison to him, how well-formed.  His brain calculated the millions of years of divergent evolution on two separate planets that had formed him, and those on Earth that had fashioned his k’diwa precisely for his pleasure. The probability of him finding such a mate was infinitesimally small, and yet he had.

The garment that Nyota was wearing accentuated the shape of her breasts, the concave dip of her waist, and her curved hips far beyond the cut of her standard issue uniform. It was a garment that the human healer did not deserve to see her in, Spock reasoned.

It was not illogical to desire his intended to dress thusly for his eyes alone.

Spock was becoming more adept at reading human behavior. Given her stance, he believed that Nyota was quite vexed with his actions and words. The angry sparks in her dark eyes made her look so much more like the star she was named for.

“What have you done to my head, Spock?” she repeated.

”I have not ‘done’ anything to your head. Although unlike your companion for the evening, I am no doctor, I surmise you are in optimal health.”

“You know what I mean! Why can I hear your voice in my head? When you’re elsewhere in the ship? _When you’re on another planet?_ What have you done to me?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. But Uhura knew enough about his subtle facial expressions to correctly interpret this as stubbornness.

”Answer me, Spock!”

”During intercourse, with your permission, we melded. You consented to each meld…”

”That doesn’t answer my question! If you’re a touch telepath, then _why are you in my head when we’re not touching?”_

Spock said slowly, ”While emotional transference is a side effect of any meld, it seems that after approximately four or five such occurrences, a shallow bond is formed.”

”A _bond.”_ She stalked toward him, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I don’t remember agreeing to any bond! I don’t remember you asking me!”

”It was my error,” said Spock. “A grievous one, for I have no precedent upon which to draw. Nonetheless, I find myself without regret.”

”Spock!” She clutched his shoulders, shaking her head. “You _have_ to undo this. I didn’t agree to anything yet. I told you that I need to think about this, decide…”

”In order for it to be undone, we would need to consult a Vulcan healer. Unfortunately, if I attempted to undo it myself, it might cause permanent neural damage.”

Tears stood out in her eyes. “Spock. How could you do this? _How could you?_ And you’re not even sorry!”

“Regret is an emotion, and therefore illogical.”

He would not admit to her that the human part of him was pleased that the dominant Vulcan half had managed to bind her to him. It was only logical to do so, as M’Benga would not be the last of her prospective suitors.

It was one of the few times in Spock’s life when his two warring sets of DNA worked in tandem to achieve a most desirable goal.

”This is unfair, Spock. I am not Vulcan! You can’t expect me to react to things like a Vulcan woman would! When you don’t let me make my own choices, you’re being just as illogical as you accuse everyone else of being!”

Why would she not admit that she had already chosen him? Nyota Uhura was a most stubborn female… but her strong personality was part of what made her so enticing, so utterly irresistible to him.

Deciding to call her bluff, without breaking their stare, he reached for his comm.

”Spock to M’Benga.”

”M’Benga here.” Spock could detect the note of irritation in M’Benga’s voice.

”Dr. M’Benga, after discussing the matter with Lieutenant Uhura, it seems that I was in error. I will be departing her quarters in 1.2 minutes so that you may resume your evening.”

”Commander?”

”Spock out.”

He closed his comm, then faced Uhura far more impassively than he desired.

”Good night, Lieutenant. I shall see you in the morning.”

He turned and was going to depart without another word. While he knew he would need an extra hour or two in meditation this evening to alleviate the sting of Uhura’s rejection, the fact that she emitted a little disappointed sigh as he made his way out made his decision worthwhile.

She would come to her senses, eventually. At least, he hoped that she would.

But just before he arrived at her door to exit, she spoke again.

“Wait…”

He turned around to face Nyota.

Before he could move or say or do anything, she stood up on tiptoe and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Damn you!”

She crushed her lips to his, holding onto his shoulders for dear life. Spock’s arms went around her so that she did not fall. Marveling anew at how slight she felt in his embrace -- it was quite illogical, how _fragile_ human women were -- he fought every instinct within that urged him to join with her, as was natural, as was his _right._

As much as he desired her mind and body, Spock decided then and there that he would _not_ initiate sexual intercourse with Nyota again until they reached an understanding. It was nonsensical for her to continue this dalliance with the healer, but at present, she was enthralled with the idea that humans called “romance.”

An illogical idea indeed. Whatever appeal this nonexistent “romance” with M’Benga afforded was negligible compared to the cataclysm that had propelled them together. It took a glimpse into an alternate reality for them to find each other, and nothing that the human doctor did or said could alter that.

When she surfaced for breath, he took the opportunity to release her, ensuring that she was back on her feet as he did.

Before either could speak, the door buzzed. Spock walked to the panel and opened it.

“I will leave you to resume your evening,” he told her, passing a flabbergasted Dr. M’Benga on the way out.

 

*

 

Spock was deep into his fifth hour of meditation when he sensed he was no longer alone in his quarters. Someone was watching him, very quietly, from the corner.

For the first time, Uhura had come to him of her own accord.

Her presence dissolved his serene state immediately. Spock felt his trance melt away, replaced with the sense of calm and order that only his ashayam seemed to bring in her wake. She was like a Terran hurricane, destroying all of his logic and yet creating anew whenever she was with him.

“You’re no longer meditating,” she said softly, with wonder. “I can feel the change. Even without looking at you. Or touching you...”

Spock opened his eyes slowly. He noted that she was still wearing the form-fitting yellow garment.

He was pleased.

“Yes.”

“The… this bond we have. It doesn’t just work one way.”

He did not understand her observation. “Why would it do so?”

“Because I thought… well, humans are psi-null. You’re the telepath, so I thought that you’d be the only one who could look into my thoughts.” She bit her lower lip, and Spock fought the urge to replace her teeth with his own. “I didn’t realize that I would be able to… sense yours, too.”

“During meditation, I do not shield as I should,” he explained, standing up. “You must forgive me. It has been a long time since there has been a need.”

He held out a hand to her.

“I know that you have many questions, k’diwa. I shall endeavor to answer them for you.”

She hesitated a moment, then placed her smaller, perfectly manicured hand in his.

Soon, they were seated together in the chair Uhura had occupied. Spock was pleased when she did not object to being seated atop his lap again. She weighed almost nothing and was by far the most gratifying being he’d ever embraced.

They had much to talk about.

“Jabilo is convinced that you’ve forced me to choose you over him, Spock. He’s furious… I tried to talk to him, but…”

Her chest heaved as she tried without succeeding to suppress a sob.

“I’ve ruined everything.”

“You have ruined nothing. The error is my own.”

“No, Spock, you don't understand! If Jabilo reports that you’ve mind-raped me, even if we’re able to prove your innocence, we’ll have to transfer ships. The scandal may even cost us Starfleet.” She began crying. “I should have never kissed you. I should have…”

“Behaved as if nothing existed between us, even after the anomaly?” His fingers came up to wipe her tears.

“I can’t imagine it, but perhaps it would be for the best,” she said quietly. “That other Spock, the aged one… he lived an outstanding life. He was extraordinarily close to his Jim. I am sure that the Uhura in his reality was content, and she…”

Nyota trailed off, looking up at him.

“But there was always something missing, wasn’t there?”

“I cannot know, as I am not that Spock, and never accessed his memories,” he told her. “However, I do not have regrets. The accusation that I have violated your mind without permission is baseless, and any Vulcan elder can verify it.” Pause. “They will examine the bond, and likely will recommend making it permanent, especially considering your health.”

Uhura closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest once again.

“This really isn’t just going to be a one-night stand, is it?” she asked with a dry laugh.

”Nyota, I am certain that you already know the answer to that question.”

”I’m so frightened, Spock.”

He stroked her bare arm, letting her sense his calm. “Dakh pthak. Nam-tor ri ret na’fan-kitok fa tu dakh pthak.”

“The sayings of Surak... _‘_ Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear.’ Of course,” she said softly. Her hand came up to stroke his face. “I’m trying so hard not to fall for you, Spock, but you just…”

“May I point out, Nyota, that you have already ‘fallen,’ as you put it,” he replied, turning to press his lips to her palm, but never breaking her gaze. “And your regard is returned.”

“I’ve never been in love before,” she whispered. “But what I sense from you isn’t exactly the same as what humans would call ‘love.’ What you feel for me, it’s… overwhelming, Spock. I thought it was just lust at first, but it’s…”

She studied his face while he noted the number of words she considered, then discarded.

“It’s like I’m becoming something you need in order to function,” Uhura finally said. “That’s a lot of responsibility, especially when I always imagined being swept off my feet, wined and dined, and romanced. I didn’t expect to be someone’s… air and water… their…”

 _Sustenance,_ he told her through the bond, supplying the word she was trying to find.

He dipped down. She leaned up.

Their foreheads touched.

“You are becoming essential to me, Nyota. And yet it seems that I have been remiss at understanding your needs for human courtship. It would greatly assist my efforts if you were to request activities that you would like to engage in.”

She drew back with a laugh, shaking her head.

“That’s not how it works, sugar. If I make all the plans, it’s not romantic.”

Spock did not understand. “Explain.”

“I’m not going to explain. You’re one of the smartest creatures in the ‘Fleet. You’ll figure it out, and when you do, surprise me.”

His ashayam was being most difficult. Since Spock did not wish to intrude upon her memories without a permanent bond _and_ her expressed permission, endeavoring to learn what kind of “romantic” experiences Nyota desired would be quite the task.

He raised an eyebrow and was rewarded by her gentle smile and her two fingers, raised to meet his. As their fingers touched, Spock was flooded with her pleasure and contentment. He was pleased.

“Would it be alright if we just…” she trailed off, breaking their gaze, lowering her eyelashes in the fetching way that she did when she was being bashful.

He could sense her need through their touch. The fact that she _wanted_ his mind in hers, that she desired not only his body, but his mind as well, ratcheted his satisfaction up another notch.

His hand sought her face anew, connecting with her psi points for the first time outside intercourse, speaking the words aloud for the first time.

“My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…”

_The thread that connected them expanded until it was his entire world. Quickly, he suppressed the desire to make their bond immediately permanent, for he was no skilled elder, and he could not risk the potential harm to her._

_Once those 4.5 seconds of possessive, green desire had passed, he found her, lost in a memory that took her back to the savanna of her Kenyan homeland. Spock saw her twirling in the dry grasses that came to her waist, wearing a short white dress that he’d never noticed her in._

_Her hair was unbound, almost the length that she’d worn it at the academy. It was not straightened, but had coiled up in the fashion of Terran women from her land. The abundance of springy curls framed her pleasing face, illuminated by the alien light of Sol, buoyed by the trade winds from the Indian Ocean, over an hour distant by hovercar._

_Kitui was a modern city. Rural before First Contact, in the two centuries since, it had become a center for trade and learning, a sought-after location for those weary of metropolitan life in sprawling Nairobi, yet less cosmopolitan and jaded than the resort city of Mombasa. Drier than most places on Earth, and far hotter, Kitui was unlike either San Francisco or Seattle, his mother Amanda’s birthplace. Some of the large megafauna were now extinct due to pre-contact wars and greed, but modern science had restored very many to their historic niches._

_Yet much like Spock had been drawn to the mountains and the desert for solitude and a respite from all that troubled him as a child, his Nyota preferred the open spaces of the savannah. This was the place on her home planet where she felt most content._

_She called to him. “Spock! Come and see!”_

_Instantly, he was there, taking her outstretched hand in his, feeling her jubilation, her sense of being back home. She pulled him through the aromatic grass of mind and memory, laughing as she sought her favorite clearing amid the acacia, shielded from the sun by an outcropping of rock, looking down over a shallow pond._

_He sat first, holding open his arms for her so that she could nestle there. As she tucked her head beneath his chin, Spock could hear her humming beneath her breath…_

_They were one._

Spock opened his eyes slowly. Nyota was sleeping peacefully in his arms, still lost in her dream of home…

And him.

 

*

 

The door to the captain’s quarters swooshed open as Spock arrived for his usual after dinner conversation with Kirk. Over a game of chess, a fifth of Andorian ale, or during more dire times, a stack of microtapes, they would discuss the business of the ship on routine days whenever the senior officers’ poker game was not on.

Today, instead of a chess board or alcoholic beverages, Jim sat at his desk, looking at his console.

McCoy was with him, looking either irritated or confused. Spock could not distinguish between the two facial expressions in most humans, and the doctor was a particularly irascible specimen.

“Spock. Come in.”

Spock could tell something was amiss, but said nothing as he sat down in the other chair in front of the captain’s desk.

“An unbelievable report was just filed from the least likely source,” said Kirk slowly. “Spock, what happened with M’Benga? What did he see?”

“He saw nothing.” Of that, Spock was certain.

“He’s reported you for sexual assault of a fellow officer.” Jim wiped the sweat that had formed on his brow. “Normally, I’d dismiss this as frivolous after a quick conversation with Uhura, but the problem is that he’s claiming that you’ve…”

“Dammit, Spock, he’s claiming that you’ve _mind-raped_ her!” exclaimed Bones. “In an official report! Now, I need you to answer Jim… what did M’Benga see you two get up to?”

Spock knew that both men were clearly upset. Not with him, but with the threat to the order on the ship. If word of this were to go beyond the report, his position of executive officer would be compromised.

Even worse, he could face court martial.

_Again._

“May I read the report?”

Jim shook his head. “Unfortunately, if I do that, and M’Benga gets wind of it, we could both wind up in trouble with Command. I have to remain in a position where I can help you, Spock.”

“Any charge of kae’at k’lasa would need to be verified by a Vulcan elder,” Spock said. “It is not a charge that the Federation would recognize…”

“Yet he claims that you used the kae-ah… what you said… to assault her, and sexual assault is very much a chargeable offense in Starfleet.” Kirk sighed. “It means that if we can’t get him to withdraw this report, both Starfleet _and_ the Vulcan embassy will need to get involved with this. And knowing Uhura, she’s going to be furious.”

Spock acknowledged the truth of Jim’s words. He was beginning to understand that his mate disliked not being in control. She had been greatly affected by the encounter with the Platonians long after the rest of them had relegated the matter to the relief of a disaster averted. To be the subject of a sexual assault investigation that she herself did not trigger would infuriate her beyond imagining.

“I’ll examine her,” said Bones slowly. “But my report would only prove that she’s physically unharmed… I wish I could help you with the mental part, but I can’t.”

“A physical examination would be invasive of her privacy,” Spock observed. “As well as inconclusive. Surely there is another way.”

“Inconclusive?” Bones said incredulously. “I don’t think you understand. You’re being accused of just about the worst thing a man can be accused of! By one of my staff! I’ll do the examination myself, and it will show you didn’t exactly _attack_ her…”

But Kirk was looking at Spock. He palmed his face with frustration.

“Come on, Spock! I told you this wasn’t high school!”

McCoy looked from Kirk to Spock and back again.

“Oh, _hell,”_ was his reply. “That’s more than I needed to know about this goblin’s sex life. Dammit, Jim, where’s that brandy?”

“In a minute, Bones.”  He turned back to Spock. “We’re back in easy subspace communication range with Earth. Do you know if your father is in residence at the Vulcan embassy, or is he in ShiKahr?”

“I do not know.”

“Find out, Spock. I know that bringing your father into this is the last thing you want to do, but I’m running out of options… especially when the ‘Fleet’s judicial ranks are filled with those who are suspicious of Vulcans.”

Spock stood up to go.

“And Spock, I’ll need to speak with Uhura. Even if the charge means that her statement won’t be believed by all, she still has the right to make one.” Pause. “I thought you’d like to be the one who breaks the news to her.”

With a nod, he left Kirk and McCoy to their whiskey and worries…

Worries that Spock found he shared in spite of himself.

 

*

 

“How dare he! That kumanina!”

Uhura’s fury was a fearsome sight to behold. Her rage flooded their link. Spock felt her wrath toward the human healer batter his shields. While he was quite gratified that her affection for M’Benga seemed to have waned in light of his charges, he was nonetheless concerned about both her health and stress levels, as well as what might happen if the charges were revealed.

“I thought Jabilo was different! I thought he’d listened to me when I said that you did _not_ do anything without my consent. I thought he understood!”

“He thinks that he is doing what is best for you, k’diwa,” Spock said from his position in front of his console. “His regard for you has made him act illogically.”

“I knew something like this would happen.” She was pacing the length of his living area, wringing her hands. “See what I mean? Spock, there are so many complications that have come from us being together! This is _not_ that other world! We need to just…”

“A moment, Nyota.”

She looked over at him curiously as a familiar face filled his console's viewscreen.

“Spock!”

His mother’s beaming face matched the flicker he felt from his bond with her… a flicker she’d labeled “happiness” since his earliest childhood. Her hair was down, as it often was when she was at home and it was late at night or early in the morning.

“Mother.” Spock wished, quite irrationally, that he could return her smile. “This is Lieutenant Uhura, my…”

He trailed off. Uhura was not yet his adun’a, not quite his bondmate, but words that he used with her in private seemed insufficient to introduce her to his mother.

“Nyota,” she supplied, sitting next to him. “Please call me Nyota, T’sai Amanda. We met before when the Enterprise escorted you and your husband to Babel.”

“So it _is_ you! I knew it! I could tell... _”_ Amanda’s smile widened. “And it's just Amanda.”

“Mother, there is a serious matter that has arisen,” said Spock. “I must speak with Father as soon as possible.”

“Your father’s meditating. I’ll go get him…”

“There is no need,” said Sarek, coming to stand behind his wife, robes swirling around him. “Spock, what has happened?”

For perhaps the first time in his life, Spock was grateful for the family link that had summoned his father, and let him know of his distress. Although he was a man grown and had left home 19.238 years ago, he was gratified by the paternal concern that filtered through the bond.

“I have been charged with kae’at k’lasa by a fellow officer on the Enterprise,” he said plainly.

Sarek did not frown, of course, but Spock felt his father’s displeasure nonetheless. He knew Sarek well enough to understand this as disbelief of the accusation, not censure of his actions.

“Is this officer knowledgeable of Vulcan law and customs, to bring such a charge?”

And he looked directly at Uhura. Which would not do at all, Spock thought.

“This officer, one Dr. Jabilo M’Benga, studied with our healers at the hospital in ShiKahr and is fluent in the language of our people.” Spock paused. “He went to Captain Kirk and filed a formal report when Lieutenant Uhura did not return his regard in the manner that he wished.”

“It is logical to assume the reason for the report is that she did return yours.”

It was not possible for Spock to blush. It _should not_ have been possible for him to feel embarrassed, either. Neither emotion was logical, and he had spent the years since his childhood diligently following the path of Surak. Yet every time, his subsumed human half defeated him.

Nyota’s hand found his under the desk. She did not laugh aloud, but as their fingers touched, he detected her amusement through their newborn bond, bubbling like the spicewine to which she was partial.

“A human bondmate. You never did choose the most logical path, my son.”

Amanda looked up to him. “And just what is that supposed to mean, Sarek? I think _our_ son has chosen not only logically, but _well_ . She’s a beautiful, smart girl, and he’s finally _happy_ … we both feel that!”

“There is no need to insult him, adun’a.” Sarek’s gaze fell back to the pair several light-years away. “I cannot intervene directly, Spock.”

“I do not request that you do so, Sa-mekh. It was my intention for you to meet my intended bondmate, and to… ask for your advice.”

“If you had inquired prior to this charge,” Sarek said slowly, “my advice would have been quite different.”

“We were in deep space,” explained Spock.

“You risked her health,” was Sarek’s admonishment. “Shon-ha’lock is insufficient excuse, my son. You should not have claimed her without a proper koon-ut-kal-if-fee.”

Spock bit back a retort, but Uhura came to his defense.

“Spock didn’t do anything, Ambassador! I’m sorry, but I’m tired of everyone acting as if he did something to me that I didn’t want him to do!”

Now Spock _was_ embarrassed. Amanda tittered, while Sarek simply looked placidly at her.

“Her words are very much like those you spoke once, my wife.”

“That’s because these silly people always think that human women are putty in a Vulcan’s hands. Well, let me assure you, dear Nyota, that you will find that it is _quite_ the opposite...”

“ _Mother_ ,” Spock said, unable to completely disguise his embarrassment this time. “The charges that the human healer has brought are quite serious.”

“They are, but they have no basis. Your father and I will be there as soon as possible.”

“I called for your advice, not your intervention. Besides, Father has just said that…”

“While it is true that I cannot intervene directly, you are still a citizen of Vulcan,” Sarek said. “As such, the embassy will provide the healer who will evaluate the nature of your telepathic bond with Miss Uhura, and the elder who will conduct the investigation…”

“That does not mean that your presence is required.”

“I am not only your father, I am also your ambassador. This means that I must protect Vulcan’s interests in the Federation.”

Spock understood what remained unsaid. If news that he was involved in a second court martial began to circulate Starfleet, or worse, the Federation, questions would be raised. If convicted, it would make interstellar headlines… but even if he was acquitted, there would be rumors that as the Vulcan ambassador’s son, he was being protected.

Nyota’s hand tightened around his. Somehow, that made him feel more reassured.

His mother was looking at him with shining eyes as well.

“We’ll see you soon, Spock. You too, Nyota dear.”

He ended the call, staring at the screen. It was illogical to wish to contact them again. All the same, he had not realized how much he wanted to see them.

Soft, cool lips pressed against his neck. He closed his eyes…

“You and your parents are _adorable_.” Another gentle kiss. “But you’re kind of spoiled, you know. Happens with only children, or so I hear.”

Spock was inwardly amused. “Youngest children in human families are similarly indulged. Or so I hear.”

“You’ve got me there.” She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed softly. “Spock, what are we going to do? The moment the ship’s BBS catches wind of this, things will be chaotic for us. Perhaps I should try to talk some sense into Jabilo...”

“Negative. You are _not_ to be alone with him again.” Spock was uncertain of his ability to maintain control while Nyota was with the human healer.

“He feels the same about you, you know.” Her hand came up to stroke his ear. “Spock, promise me you’ll keep your distance from him while this plays out. The last thing we need is for anything else to happen before that elder gets here with your parents.”

He could not stop the satisfied groan he emitted in response to the sensation of her fingertips on his ears.

“Promise me, baby,” she whispered again, moving her slender fingers from his ears to his mouth, watching as their tips disappeared between his lips.

Still he did not speak, even as she stood from her chair and lifted her uniform above her head, revealing lacy underwear as white as the dress in her vision. It provided a stark visual contrast to her cool, dark skin.

As she undressed, he did as well, desiring the comfort of her mind and body, the assurance that only she could provide that their bond was not something that he had forced, but was of her own free will.

She smiled gently.

“You may not be very romantic, but hot damn, you’re sexy.”

Pushing him back on his bed, she began to weave her spell over him, leading their lovemaking for the first time. Hesitantly at first, then with assurance, she explored his body with hers. She did not simply use her hands and her mouth, but used her entire body in this experiment of hers… including her talented tongue.

After all, she was a communications officer.

“Every woman on this ship has fantasized about these ears… these eyes, these lips… and these _hands,_ ” she whispered into his ear. “But I love that I’m the only one who gets to do this with you.”

Her wicked teeth nipped his earlobe, for emphasis, worrying the sensitive point with a teasing finger. Spock found himself growing hard at the thought of her being _his_ only one.

“You make me so hot for you, Spock,” she purred, kissing her way down his neck, then his chest. “I never thought that making love with you would be like this… I want to learn your body the way you’ve learned mine… I love making you lose that famous control of yours… I want to unravel you.”

He sensed her intention through the bond just before her cool, wet mouth circled his aching lok. It was a sight that he wanted to commit to memory, but he could not help his growl, the way his back arched from the bed, the way his hands tore at the sheets so that he would _not_ hurt her as she gave him such pleasure.

With her hands cupping his posterior, fingernails breaking the smooth, pale skin, she took as much of him as she could. But her mouth was quite small, and his lok was of average size for a Vulcan, which meant that the girth and length was significantly larger than a comparable human male…

Before he knew it, his head was flung back, and his mouth opened with a primal growl.

_Now you see how I feel when you do this to me._

Trembling, his chest rumbling with a crescendoing purr, he sensed his mate’s internal laughter, and yet the suction, the pressure, and the knife-edge between pleasure and pain continued. With the modicum of logic remaining to him, Spock told himself that he could _not_ knot in her mouth. She needed to breathe…

But first, he needed to come.

So he did. Gripping her hair as gently as he could manage, quivering as she moved a hand to stroke his chenesi, never yielding her grip. He poured the essence of himself into her hungry, eager mouth.

Then suddenly, she released him as he was still releasing. The remainder of his come landed on her face and chest and hands…

But when he saw that she’d closed her eyes, he knew she’d done it on purpose… even before her satisfied, wicked little smile.

She was one of the soul-eaters of legend. _Sirshos'im._

 _Takes one to know one, doesn’t it?_ came her reply as she used a corner of his ruined sheets to wipe her face. _I know you’re going to pay me back in full measure before the night’s through._

His legs felt weak and uncertain for 0.76 seconds after he stood from the bed. Yes, he was certain that his ashayam would be the death of him, and sooner rather than later.

“Do not move,” he told her, intending to go to the bathroom for a washcloth to cleanse her face.

Before he knew it, she was moving past him and into the shower.

“I asked you not to move, Nyota.”

“I heard you loud and clear,” was her reply, as she bypassed the sonics for the luxury of a water shower. “Now, are you going to get in here and punish your bad girl, or do you need an invitation?”

It turned out that he did not need an invitation.

Instead of punishment, he rewarded them both.

And before dawn, he made her promises that he hoped that he would be able to keep, and not only for the sake of their relationship.

He had to relinquish his irrational anger toward Jabilo M’Benga for not only Nyota’s sake, but also for the sake of the Enterprise itself.

 

*

 

Together, they went to Sickbay the next day after shift for Uhura’s medical exam. She had insisted that she would be “just fine” alone, but Spock did not wish to run the risk of M’Benga being there and confronting her. He was gratified that McCoy, and not M’Benga, would be the one to perform her examination.

While sex during one’s Time could be dangerous even to Vulcan females, Vulcan males tended to be dominant during copulation even outside of plak-tow. Spock made no apologies for his vivid enjoyment of his ashayam’s abundant charms. It was logical to stoke his Nyota’s sexual needs, then see them both to completion. There had been no need to “take things slow,” as humans termed it, for they were already well-acquainted, having established a friendship prior to becoming intimate.

After Chapel led Uhura back to the examination room where McCoy was waiting, she returned to where Spock sat waiting. She smiled at him.

“You’re such a kind friend,” she told Spock, sitting down next to him. “I think it’s lovely, not to mention gallant. But then, that’s just who you are.”

“To whom or what are you referring, Miss Chapel?”

“Why, Uhura being sick, and you escorting her from the bridge. It’s rather nice of you.”

“The Lieutenant is in perfect health.”

The blonde nurse frowned, looking over her shoulder. “Why, whatever do you mean? Dr. McCoy scheduled this as an emergency appointment...”

Spock said nothing. He did not wish to divulge the details of their situation to the nurse.

“I should… see if the doctor needs anything,” said Chapel quickly. “I’ll be back.”

She disappeared but for a moment, only to return with a frown.

“Dr. McCoy wishes to see you, Mr. Spock.”

Nodding, Spock stood up and walked past the incredulous nurse into the examination area.

McCoy was waving a device at a fully-dressed Uhura.

“You see this? It’s called a dermal regenerator! Learn to use it!”

Uhura smiled over his shoulder at Spock as he entered the room. McCoy turned around as well.

“Thanks to your… your _you-know-what,_ my medical report isn’t going to help you anyway! In fact, it may do more harm than good! Bites, scratches, _a tear!_ And much, much more besides! You’ve got _his_ DNA  under your fingernails, and in  your… dammit, you two, _why_ couldn’t you just do chocolate and flowers like normal people?”

“Welcome to the past month of my life,” said Uhura. “Anyway, we’re senior officers on the Federation flagship, Len. We’re already not normal by definition.”

“All the same, you’re making my job _and_ my life harder. And poor Jim, he’s going to tear his hair out.” McCoy set the dermal regenerator down and ran a hand through his brown hair. “I have to file this report. And until that healer gets here, there is nothing, save for your word, that will prove no assault took place.”

“My word should be enough,” Uhura said firmly. “As an officer in the ‘Fleet, as a sentient adult, and as a _woman,_ my word should be enough to dismiss these charges.”

“You know it won’t be.”

“That’s because Starfleet is _specieist!_ It’s dominated by humans, and all too often, we still fear what we don’t understand! The higher-ups fear what they don’t understand, and for all the progress we’ve made, human men still seem to think that human women are _their_ property! Especially _some_ human men!”

Her distress was mounting. Spock stood still, unmoving. He wanted to comfort her. He could not do so when they were not private.

“Uhura, you’ve got to know that while this process might seem unfair, those who made the rules had the best interests of the ‘Fleet at heart. Imagine if there _was_ a telepath who convinced some psi-null girl that she was the one for him, and not of her own free will. There’d be no way to tell…”

“Yes, there would be! Look at me, Leonard! You’ve just examined me… do I display any physical signs of compulsion or coercion?”

“No.”

“Would there be any grounds for this charge at all if Spock weren’t Vulcan?”

“You know there wouldn’t be.”

“Then you need to write in that medical report that you found no evidence of sexual coercion, Len! You know enough now about the differences in Vulcan physiology, but above and beyond that, you know _Spock._ How many times has he risked everything for his captain, this ship, and this crew?”

Silence. McCoy and Spock looked at each other.

“ _How many times?”_

McCoy muttered, “Spock's saved our necks more times than I can count.”

“Why, thank you, doctor,” said Spock dryly.

“Don’t thank me until I get you out of this mess, Spock. We’ve still got to prove that you didn’t do anything to Uhura… that is, that she didn’t want.”

“Len. How could you think that Spock would ever, in a million years, hurt _me?_ Or you? Or any one of us?”

“I know that, dollface, but…”

“But what?”

“But there’s that pon farr they have.”

Uhura frowned. “What’s that?”

"Pon farr." McCoy rounded on Spock. “You didn’t tell her?”

Spock, who had frozen at the very mention of pon farr, was horrified. This was assuredly _not_ the way that he wanted to discuss the Time, in the midst of Sickbay with a raging doctor…

“This ought to be good,” said Bones. “Well, I’m done here. I’ll write up my report, and then you’re both free to go.”

“Spock?” she asked as soon as McCoy was gone. “What is pon farr?”

“It is not spoken of to outworlders.”

“Does your mother know about it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It is only logical that she would.”

“Then you need to share it with me.”

In as few words as possible, using their fledgling link to share memories and impressions, Spock told Uhura about the Time.

“So, five years from now, you’re going to need to have sex, or you’ll die.” Uhura shrugged. “Why the secrecy? I don’t understand.”

“During one’s Time, a Vulcan loses all logic. Every vestige of self-control is stripped away, and we… return to what we once were. Before Surak.”

“Every seven years?”

“As reckoned on T’Khasi, and dependent upon the individual, but… yes.”

Sensing his consternation, she held two fingers out. He walked over to where she sat on the examination table to complete the oz’hesta.

“It is my privilege and my greatest pleasure to attend you, ashal-veh, and to see to your needs,” he told her as she curled into his embrace. “But during my time, I will become someone you do not know. The Time is _not_ what you are thinking it is. It is no human honeymoon. I will become selfish. I may very well frighten you. And it is likely I may even cause you harm before I come to my senses.”

“Oh, Spock,” she chided. “You could never hurt me.”

“I will not be able to prevent…”

“Remember, I was a girl on the savanna. You have traveled with me, in my memories, to my favorite place. I’ve seen plenty of animals in heat, and they survive it.”

“I am no Terran animal, Nyota,” said Spock, offended, “and neither are you.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant was that your differences are a part of you, Spock. If I wanted to be with a human man, I would be. But you’re right, I made my choice the night of the party. My choice is _you…_ everything you are… everything I am when I’m with you… and everything we are together. And you are going to _live,_ not die, if I have anything to say about it.”

He had never felt such contentment before. Her words were supplemented by the flood of emotion in the bond: determination, her ever-present affection for him, and the sensation that humans called love.

She _adored_ him.

As for him, there were insufficient words in both Vulcan and Standard to describe what he felt for her. He could not express it. He could not even begin to try. It was inexpressible. But the closest he could find was:

“Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, k'hat'n'dlawa,” he told her, stroking her fingers gently.

“And I cherish you, mpenzi wangu,” she whispered back. “When your Time comes, we’ll get through it. But first, we need to face these charges…”

There was the sound of a throat clearing.

They both looked up.

Christine Chapel was standing in the doorway with a PADD in her hand.

“Dr. McCoy was called away for an emergency on the bridge,” she said. “I have your paperwork.”

She set it on a side table near the door, not moving further into the room.

“Christine,” Uhura said, jumping down from the table, “can we talk?”

“There’s absolutely nothing that we need to talk about, Lieutenant Uhura,” the nurse replied coldly. “See you around the ship.”

 

*

 

By the end of beta shift, Spock and Uhura were the talk of the Enterprise. From the rec rooms, to the mess, to the corridors, to the BBS, the rumors flew, fast and furious.

However, the crew of the Enterprise was not sure which of the conflicting reports to believe.

But one thing was certain...

 _This_  was the biggest scandal the ship had ever known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How much did I struggle with this chapter? Let me count the ways...
> 
> The challenge with writing limited POV chapters is that we only can know what the character knows, see through their eyes, and participate in their scenes. So while I realize that I've made M'Benga seem like the bad guy here, please understand that you're seeing and interpreting him through Spock's perspective only. We didn't get to see his conversation with Nyota the night of the date, nor did we get to follow him while he filed his charges. It's one of the major limitations of this fic, that I couldn't find a way to show the convo, and *why* Nyota finally made her choice... but hey, it's crack, not really a serious story. :)
> 
> The other limitation was the quick way that I had to introduce Sarek and Amanda. Originally, I wanted to give Spock a heart-to-heart (well, the Vulcan version of one) with his mother, without Sarek or Nyota present. The challenge is that the next chapter is the hearing, and I didn't want S/A to meet Nyota in such a tense setting. I also think I've made their familial relationship too AOS-like, but the timing of the story fanwanks it... it's been more than a year since "Journey to Babel," so Spock and Sarek are speaking again. And Spock, in any universe, is a mama's boy. (Sorry, I don't make the rules.)
> 
> We've only got two chapters left, so the pacing's suffering a bit. If I were going to write a more serious story, I'd take much more time with all these dynamics and plot elements.
> 
> Last two chapters: 9, "After the Dance (Vocal)" is a penultimate ensemble chapter (I'll show the hearing through various crewmembers' POVs), and the final chapter, 10, "All The Way Around" alternates between Spock and Nyota's POVs. No ETA on posting, since I'm traveling quite a bit this month for work, and am slammed with deadlines (sigh), but I'll do my best!
> 
> Comments are love! Thanks so much to AdelphaHighbrow, KerryLamb, Yalegirl03, Great+Story, Jades, AL, and Frau_Blucher for their comments on Chapter 7. Let me know what your wishlist for these two is as I wrap things up!


	9. After the Dance (Vocal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Group POV.

********The probe from the other _Enterprise_ was still in the shuttle bay, not yet transported to storage. Generally, it was left to Spock to oversee such things. The first officer was generally meticulous in logging artifacts from their ship’s many strange encounters.

But these days, it seemed as if Spock was preoccupied. The strange device sent by the crew of the other _Enterprise_ was still out in plain view, shunted to the corner of one of the bay’s decks that was utilized for temporary storage. From the captain’s vantage point, the shuttles _Columbus, Copernicus, and Galileo_ could be seen, kept in pristine order by Engineering, ready for use should the need arise.

Nothing else was out of place. It made the foreign probe seem even more otherworldly than it already was.

Kirk regarded the probe. It was so much more advanced than anything he’d ever seen. This piece of another reality was proof that their encounter with the spatial anomaly a fortnight ago hadn’t just been a dream...

“Seems like something so insignificant shouldn’t cause so much trouble.”

Kirk turned around. It was McCoy. Clearly, the doctor was checking in on his captain and friend, for there was no reason for him to be in the vicinity. Although he would not admit it, Kirk knew that Leonard McCoy was very concerned about the trouble that Spock had found himself in… and was worried about their ability to get him out of it.

“After all we’ve been through, Bones, you’d still call something like this insignificant?” He shook his head. “You were there in the mirror universe. You saw the challenge I issued to the other Spock, to make that world better. You could tell the gears in his mind were turning. We changed that universe just by being there.”

“Well, maybe this is some kind of payback,” drawled Bones. “If our universe changed that Spock, then a brush with another one could certainly change ours.”

“Maybe,” Kirk replied thoughtfully. “Although I don’t know that Spock changed. We’re all shaped by our circumstances. What we know, and what we do with that knowledge, it all influences who we become. He clearly saw something over there that made him decide to pursue Uhura. But as he told me, he thought highly of her before. It was the circumstances that changed, not Spock.”

McCoy sighed. “Have the rumors about the two of them hit the BBS yet?”

“Not yet. Not that I know of. But it’s only a matter of time.”

Before McCoy could reply, they were interrupted. It was Scotty.

“Captain, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said the chief engineer. “Mr. Spock told us to inform him if anything changed to be more like that other Enterprise, but I cannae comm him…”

Kirk and Bones looked at each other.

“The programming’s been corrupted again?” asked Kirk.

“Aye.”

“Where?”

“Phasers, about twenty minutes ago,” said Scotty. “And there’s something going on with the replicators again! I’m doing all I can, but we’re going to need Spock before the code from that other Enterprise infects the rest of the ship!”

Kirk sighed. He could only hope that his first officer and friend had not been as irrevocably changed as the software.

 

*****

 

“All set,” Rand proclaimed, finished with the zipper on the cinnamon-red beaded dress that her friend was borrowing from her. “Now turn around and let me look at you.”

Masters whirled around, letting the short skirt flutter outward. “How does it look on me?”

“It looks like… you’re not going to have it on very long!”

“Janice!” Charlene cackled. “You need to stop. Don’t worry, I’ll have it back to you first thing day after tomorrow.”

“Nah, it’s yours now. Scotty’s totally into you,” said Yeoman Rand, cracking her gum as she rummaged through her accessories for the matching belt, “which means you’re going to have better luck with it than I have. Enjoy!"

Charlene frowned. “So nothing’s come of the little fling you’ve been having that you’re not supposed to be having, huh?”

“What fling are you talking about?” was Janice’s innocent reply.

“Janice…”

“No, I’m being serious. What fling?”

“ _Damn_ ,” swore Charlene. “That serious, huh?”

Rand’s answer was not in words, but in the twinkle of her eye… and a quick wink.

In that moment, Janice Rand and Charlene Masters understood each other perfectly.

Almost as soon as Charlene went back into Janice’s tiny bathroom to change, Tamura arrived, breathless and slightly flushed.

“Come in, Keiko,” said Rand. “What’s going on?”

Yeoman Keiko Tamura was known for her calm and steady demeanor, for she was as tranquil as Janice was vivacious. But just then, there was nothing calm about her at all.

“You haven’t heard?” asked Tamura.

“Heard what?”

“Do you mean there’s something on the ship you haven’t heard yet, Janice? It’s all over the BBS right now, and no one could talk of anything else in the rec rooms… I can’t believe that I know and you don’t!”

Masters emerged from the bathroom in her blue science dress. “What have you heard?”

“About Lieutenant Uhura… and _Commander Spock!”_

Rand shrugged. “What about them?”

As Masters ran to Rand’s console, fingers flying, the blonde senior yeoman folded her arms while Tamura filled them both in about the three main rumors that were flying around the ship at transwarp speed.

Rand didn’t believe a word of it. “We’ve been in deep space too long. The most professional lady on this ship, and… _Mr. Spock???_ What kind of hogwash is _that?”_

Masters looked up from her console.

“It’s not hogwash. Keiko's right. Looks like it's the talk of the BBS.”

 _“What?”_ exclaimed Rand.

“I knew it!” Tamura squealed. “They are _so_ in love! I never believed that other part of it… why, Mr. Spock would never do such a thing! Lieutenant Uhura’s going to be a gorgeous bride!”

Janice’s eyes were narrowed as she looked over at Charlene. “Are you telling me that Mr. Spock did some kind of mind-hoodoo thing on Ny, and…”

Head shake.

Rand’s mouth dropped open. “You mean she _wanted_ him to do that? Wants… _him?_ ”

Nod.

Dry laugh.

“So pigs really _do_ fly,” said Janice. “I can’t believe that I’m late to the party on the news of the century! And I can’t believe Nyota told you, Charli, and not me!”

“I’d bet she didn’t want you to let it slip,” Keiko observed with a giggle, which she suppressed at Rand’s sharp glare.

“Excuse me, but Nyota is my _friend,_ ” Janice insisted. “I met her before Charlene joined the crew! She should have told me.”

“And you think she should've told Christine, too?” asked Charlene Masters, zipping up the silver garment bag she’d placed the red dress in. "Because there's no way you wouldn't have told her."

“Poor Christine,” Rand said slowly, not even trying to deny the truth of Masters' words. “She’s going to be devastated. I don’t think she and Nyota will be able to recover from this.”

 

*

 

Christine Chapel had not left Sickbay since she’d overheard the conversation that upended everything she believed in. She sat in her tiny closet of an office, ostensibly reviewing medical paperwork, but in reality, she saw nary a single word on that PADD.

At first, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing and hearing. But as surreal as it seemed, it was true.

Her best friend on the ship -- Nyota Uhura -- was in love with the very Vulcan that Christine had set her sights on for _years._

And even worse, it was reciprocated.

_He chose her._

_Spock chose her, not me._

_He chose her over me._

Chapel couldn’t wrap her mind around it. _Why_ would Spock go for someone like Uhura? She was not his type at _all_ . Sure, Nyota was pretty enough, but the bride his family had chosen for him had been one _stunning_ creature… and the human woman he’d cavorted with during that episode with the spores on Omicron Ceti III had been the very blonde, very pretty Leila Kalomi.

If gentlemen preferred blondes, surely Vulcans did, too.

Why would Spock choose _Nyota Uhura,_ over her, Christine? It made no sense! Spock loved Christine’s plomeek soup! He’d been eating it for _years_. Certainly the only time he’d ever turned it down was during that odd diversion to Vulcan. Other than that, Spock was always very gentlemanly with her, going out of his way to speak with her each time he happened to be in Sickbay.

She’d even met his parents and helped to care for his father! Not to mention all the times she’d assisted in _his_ care… Nyota wasn’t even around for any of that! How the hell could Spock choose her, after everything that Christine had done on his behalf?

Chapel couldn’t stop her tears from falling. She hated the jealousy that she felt! This wasn’t her. But she had to admit that she didn’t want to _see_ or _know_ Uhura just then. For even if she didn’t know the meaning of the words that Spock had spoken to Uhura in Vulcan, she’d never heard that tone of voice from him, _ever…_

Christine Chapel was willing to bet that no one had. He’d looked at Nyota as if she was the only woman in the world! It didn’t make any sense! None at all!

She closed her eyes, willing herself to forget what she’d seen.

There was the sound of the door to Sickbay opening. Chapel didn’t feel like nursing just then. She remained at her desk…

“Christine? You’re still here?”

She looked up at Jabilo M’Benga’s concerned face. The Ugandan doctor was handsome, thoughtful, and… always worked gamma shift. Idly, she wondered how long beta shift had been over.

“What’s wrong, Chris?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied, wiping her eyes. “I’m just being silly.”

“Nonsense,” said M’Benga. “Your shift was over almost two hours ago, and you’re sitting in here crying your eyes out. What’s happened?”

“Oh, just that someone I thought was going to love me didn’t care much for me after all. No big deal.” She emitted a dry laugh.

“I know all about that kind of disappointment. By the way, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about Uhura. I know she’s your best friend. Have you noticed any changes in her lately?”

Chapel glared. “Excuse me, but Nyota Uhura isn’t _anyone’s_ friend! Not after what she did to me!”

“So you _have_ noticed how different she’s been acting lately,” Jabilo said slowly. “Tell me more.”

 

*

 

Kirk regarded his senior communications officer, standing in front of him with folded arms.

Nyota Uhura was one hell of a woman. Jim Kirk had always thought so. Not only was Uhura one of the prettiest bridge officers on any starship he’d ever served on (with legs for _days)_ , the woman was smart as a whip, had a great sense of humor, and a convivial personality. If they met under different circumstances, Jim might have been interested in more than a collegial association with her himself.

But from the moment she set foot on the ship, Uhura had only had eyes for Spock.

It was evident when she first materialized in the transporter room. She’d been professional, with impeccable manners and all the right protocols, but when she saw Spock, Kirk had noticed her brilliant, yet shy smile… like so many of his young female officers, Uhura was clearly flustered by the tall Vulcan.

_“Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. This is my first officer, Commander Spock.”_

_“I am honored, sir,” she’d said to Spock. Kirk noticed that she attempted to suppress her smile when he did not return it._

_“Lieutenant Uhura,” acknowledged Spock._

_“Spock will assist you in familiarizing yourself with your duties,” Kirk continued as they walked out the transporter room. “But if he’s ever too hard on you, know that you can come to me.”_

_“That won’t be necessary, captain,” was her saucy reply. “I’ve never been afraid of a little hard work.”_

_She walked ahead of them, but not before throwing a challenging glance in Spock’s direction._

_Kirk looked over at Spock… whose eyebrow was raised._

Shunting away the memory, Kirk offered the seat in front of his desk to Uhura. For a moment, he thought she’d refuse and remain standing. Yet he saw something relent in her, and she sat down with a tired sigh.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Of course. We’re both off duty right now.”

“What a mess,” Uhura said. “Captain, I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize for having a personal life outside of duty, Uhura. This is rough, but we’ll get through it…”

“How?”

Kirk stared at her. “What do you mean, how?”

“I mean just what I said, captain. _How_ are we supposed to get through this? How does Spock retain his standing as first officer? How do _I_ walk the corridors of this ship without whispers following me wherever I go? You have no idea what was taken away from me… from _us.”_

“We’ll get it back.”

“ _How,_ captain?”

“How? By being truthful, Uhura. By not sneaking around with Spock behind everyone’s back, but being with him in open so that people will get as bored with the two of you as they are of every other established couple on the _Enterprise_. It’s the secrecy that’s causing the buzz.”

“It’s not just that. It’s the fact that one of your officers charged your first officer with something very serious on _my_ behalf. Jabilo has no right to charge Spock with _anything_ because I chose Spock over him!”

“Uhura, I spoke with Dr. M’Benga. He has more knowledge of Vulcan anatomy than anyone on this ship, and he’s genuinely concerned…”

“He’s genuinely _jealous,_ that’s what he is! _”_

“And why might that be the case?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Did you give him any reason to think he had a chance when he didn’t?”

Uhura’s eyes narrowed. “Captain, forgive me, but I _know_ you’re not trying to judge my choices when I know what you’re doing with one of my best friends on the ship!”

“Touché,” said Kirk. “But you know, it’s not my love life that’s on trial right now.”

“Fair enough.”

He looked at her warmly. “Uhura, not as a captain to his officer, but as one friend to another… why would you date them both at the same time? From everything I know about you, that doesn’t even seem like you.”

“It all happened so fast. Jabilo asked me out just a few days after things started with Spock. I knew that being with Spock would be… complicated. At the time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to deal with those complications. I thought I could just go out with Jabilo and get Spock out my system. Everything with Spock was so new and uncertain, and I made it clear that we weren’t committed. It’s nothing that billions of women haven’t done in the past, are doing now, and will do in the future…”

Kirk ran a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing Spock didn’t take that well.”

“It wasn’t just him. Turns out, neither did I.” She shook her head. “I’m in love with your friend, Jim. The problem is that I sit next to him at work every day, and then send him my daily reports. I can’t believe I became _that_ girl…”

“You’re not,” said Kirk. “I know it because we’ve plenty of ‘that girl’ on board, and we keep encountering them out in space. Spock hasn’t so much raised an eyebrow at any of them. No, you’re a keeper, and once he decided, he didn’t want you to get away.”

“He wouldn’t have been accused of something so terrible if it wasn’t for me.”

“Perhaps not. But I think he wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

At that, Uhura’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want him to lose his career over me.”

“He won’t,” said Kirk firmly. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

 

*

 

Chapel was taken aback by M’Benga’s story.

“Why, that doesn’t even sound like Spock, Dr. M’Benga! How can you be so sure?”

Jabilo leaned back in the chair in Chapel’s office, steepling his long, caramel brown fingers.

“It doesn’t sound like Mr. Spock because it’s likely he couldn’t help himself. Unlike for humans, for Vulcans, the mating drive is instinctual. A Vulcan male’s biology drives him to do whatever he must to secure a mate -- both physically and mentally. As my mentor observed once, it is the price they pay for their strict adherence to logic.”

Christine shook her head. “But Spock isn’t just Vulcan! He’s half human, too!”

“His Vulcan half predominates. Remember, our species evolved on very different worlds. We are not able to procreate without genetic intervention. The medical literature on Spock’s case is all in Vulcan, so most human physicians are unaware. He has predominantly Vulcan DNA, and that DNA is what led him to select Uhura as a mate.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” said Chapel. “I thought the mating drive is dormant, and only comes around every seven years. That time we diverted to Vulcan was only two years ago…”

“From what I remember Dr. McCoy telling me, it was the first time Spock experienced it. He had a bonded mate from childhood then… Vulcan parents arrange those bonds to save their sons’ lives at full maturity. Now that his childhood marital bond is dissolved, he is vulnerable. Injury or stress can trigger the need to seek a new bond.”

Chapel recalled everything that had occurred to the Enterprise over the past eight months in particular. Not only had they all been through extremely stressful situations, not only had Spock sustained injury, he’d even had his _brain_ removed from his body. If that didn’t qualify as stress, she reasoned, she wasn’t sure what would.

There was still one more thing that she needed to know.

“But why Uhura?” _Why not me?_

“It’s quite simple… a Vulcan would even call it ‘logical.’ You see, Uhura is the woman with whom Spock’s had the most contact since his last pon farr. They sit near each other on the bridge. He’s had time to assess her suitability for bonding. He’s been giving her ka’athyra lessons for almost two years now, which is one indicator of grooming her to receive his advances. It’s all in the medical literature, although few outside of Vulcan have access to it.” Sigh. “And now that he’s melded with her, she’s convinced herself that she’s in love with him.”

“I don’t get it,” Chapel said slowly. “Are you telling me that it’s impossible to fall in love with a Vulcan? What about Spock’s mother?”

“I haven’t had the chance to examine her. I do have questions about it, of course, from a medical perspective. As much as I admire Vulcans, as much as we can learn from each other’s cultures, it is my professional opinion that our species are simply not biologically compatible…”

“I would endeavor to observe, Dr. M’Benga, that your ‘professional opinion’ is in fact biased.”

They both looked up. Neither had noticed Spock walking into Sickbay to stand in the medical office’s door.

“Mr. Spock!” exclaimed Christine, reddening. “I… we were just…”

“Nurse Chapel, I am not here to critique two medical personnel aboard this ship discussing an open case. I am here to confront my accuser, and to insist that he drop these charges, which are invasive, offensive, and without basis.”

M’Benga stood up so that he was at eye level with Spock.

“‘These charges’ are for your own good, as well as Uhura’s. I reported what you did to protect you both.”

“You fabricated these illogical charges to remove me from Lieutenant Uhura’s presence, Dr. M’Benga,” said Spock dryly. “You are interfering with what you do not understand, and where you have no jurisdiction.”

“I am a _doctor_ on this ship, Mr. Spock. As well as _your_ doctor…”

“You were recruited for your knowledge of Vulcan anatomy. Yet I have never allowed you to examine me. Dr. McCoy consults you on the best courses of treatment when it comes to my care, but he remains the primary physician for all senior personnel. You are neither my doctor nor the lieutenant’s. I surmise that if your intentions were genuine, you would have noted any hypotheses about the nature of my relationship with Lieutenant Uhura to Dr. McCoy, who is the Chief Medical Officer of this ship.

“Instead, you have once again violated the chain of command, and the oath you took as a sworn Starfleet officer. While I do not take offense to a rival’s slander of me, I do object to what these nonsensical charges have done to Lieutenant Uhura’s reputation. You purport to be concerned about her well-being, and yet, with your fabrications, you have impeded her ability to function as a senior officer on this ship.

“Withdraw your charges, Dr. M’Benga, and I will allow you to transfer to another ship. Should you refuse, you will find that a Vulcan does not suffer insult or injury to his mate lightly. You will also find that if a Vulcan perceives a threat to her, that threat will be contained.”

M’Benga was outraged. “Did you just threaten me?”

Chapel was shaking her head. “Dr. M’Benga… _Mr. Spock..._ ”

“I’m not going to tiptoe around you like everyone else does!” said M’Benga. “You don’t scare me, Spock!”

“Then you are unwise.”

“Someone has to stand up for her! She deserves better than you! I’m not going to let you trap her in something she didn’t even consent to!”

“Doctor, I would submit that you are simply angered that not only did the lieutenant consent, she did not choose you. As I have maintained from the beginning, your interest in my _mate_ is personal, it is prurient, and I insist that it discontinue. For if you fail to desist in your pursuit of what is _mine_ , I will most certainly ensure that you do not ‘stand up’ again.”

Chapel had flown to her comm. “Security! We have a situation in Sickbay!”

But it was too late. Furious, M’Benga’s fist flew out.

“Doctor!” sobbed Chapel. “Please…”

Vulcan reflexes were quicker than those of a human, even those of a partial Vulcan. Spock caught M’Benga wrist with one hand, and with the other, administered a neck pinch.

The doctor crumpled to the ground.

There was sudden silence in Sickbay, followed by the sound of Christine Chapel’s gasping sob.

“Why’d you have to do it, Mr. Spock?”

Spock did not understand her accusation. “The doctor was acting irrationally. I simply wished for him to desist, lest further injury...”

“I don’t mean him! I meant _her!”_

Spock looked at her -- was that a flicker of guilt on his face? Christine wondered -- and then at the unconscious M’Benga.

“It is to be regretted, Nurse Chapel, that my regard for Lieutenant Uhura has caused you undue distress…”

“Mr. Spock, she’s my _best friend.”_ She continued to cry. “You didn’t have to love me. You didn’t even have to befriend me. But how could you love _her?_ Didn’t you think about what that would do to me, after all these years, after all I’ve done to show you how much I care?”

Chapel was dismayed when he did not answer. He just _looked_ at her. Thankfully, she was spared further embarrassment when security filed into Sickbay, followed by Dr. McCoy and the captain.

“What happened?” Kirk demanded. “Why is M’Benga unconscious?”

Before Chapel could say a word, Spock said, “The doctor and I had a disagreement, which led to an altercation. I administered a neck pinch in self-defense.”

Kirk’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. “ _Spock,”_ he groaned.

“Captain, I advise that you place me under arrest pending further investigation into these allegations. Lieutenant Commander Scott is a capable second officer, and can function in my place while I am in the brig…”

“You’re not going to the brig, Spock,” said Kirk, his tired voice nearly a sigh. “If you’re going to be confined anywhere, it’ll have to be the mainframe room. That program of yours is no longer containing the other ship’s code… and it’s ruining all our systems.”

“Then it is much as I feared.”

“Unfortunately, it seems to be the case. I’ll explain on the way to the mainframe.”

 

*****

 

Two and a half dozen light years away, a tall, freckled redhead ambled into a kitchen on Earth. Although he’d come to summon its primary occupant, Angus Macallan couldn’t help but drink in the sight before him: a petite, shapely woman, stirring something wonderful in an aromatic pot. Her short dark curls were covered with a colorful headwrap, but her well-toned arms were bare, slightly misted over with the heat of the stove.

At the kitchen table, two small children sat, one very like the woman with dark eyes that drew you in…

...and the other was as freckled as he was.

“Baba,” said the freckled boy, the elder of the two, “Habari za asubuhi?”

“Nzuri,” was his reply, as he ruffled his son’s head. “For a moment there, your Gaelic was better than your Swahili. You’ve been practicing.”

“Every chance we get,” said the boy proudly. “Mama says just because we live in London, doesn’t mean…”

“Wawa!” said the tiny girl, gleefully, as her father picked her up.

“In a minute, Adia,” said the woman, spinning around with her hands on her hip. “I thought you wanted to work this morning.”

“I did, but the console’s a wee bit busy at the mo,” he told her, coming over to the stove to kiss her forehead. “Subspace call from your baby sister just came through.”

“Oh! And just when were you going to tell me?”

“Just did, mo chridhe....”

And Angus almost missed the swat of his wife’s dishtowel… but not quite.

Shaking her head, Makena Uhura dashed out of the kitchen and into the living room where their console was. Nyota’s face was already filling the screen.

“Dada mkubwa?” asked her sister, beaming.

“Dada mdogo! It has been too long!”

Makena wished to reach through the screen and hug her! How long had it been since she’d hugged her little sister? Had it been nearly three years? Deep space missions were so dangerous! This was exactly why Mama and Baba hadn’t liked it when their star followed their older brother Kamau into Starfleet Academy.

She was relieved Nyota seemed none the worse for the wear.

“Ndiyo, I know that I do not call as I should.” Makena heard the guilty note in Nyota’s voice as she spoke in Swahili. “My duties here leave me with very little free time…”

“You find time to call Mama,” she snapped back in Standard.

“Now, come on, ‘Kena!” protested Nyota, switching to Standard as well. “You know that you do too, and so does Kamau! Otherwise, we’d never hear the end of it from M’Umbha Uhura.” Both women laughed. “But I didn’t call to chit chat, big sis. I called because I’ve gotten myself into a situation here on the Enterprise, and…”

“You need me to beat someone up, right?”

Nyota laughed. “Are you kidding? We aren’t in primary school anymore!”

“Yes, but I am still your big sister. And don’t even get me started on Kamau.”

“That’s why I didn’t spend thousands of credits to call Kamau. I called you.”

Makena’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of trouble are you in, ‘Yo?”

“Man trouble.”

 _“Wewe???_ You? What have you done with my sister?”

“Shut up!”

“No, seriously. _How_ are you having man trouble, Little Miss ‘I Heart My Starfleet Career?’ After all the hearts you’ve broken since you were but a wee schoolgirl in plaid skirts?”

“Well, there is someone.” Pause. “And it’s getting serious.”

“You found someone on a starship? Did someone new transfer in? I mean, the only friends you’ve ever talked about were girls… well, besides that cute Vulcan who’s teaching you how to play their harp, and everyone _knows_ how closed-off Vulcans are…”

Nyota grinned.

“Ajabu! It’s the cute Vulcan! _I knew it!”_

Her sister’s laugh confirmed her suspicions.

“Knowing you, you’re just having tea with him and grinning while he stares at you impassively.”

Across the miles of deep space that separated them, Nyota raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“Come on, Miss Prim and Proper! I know all about your three month rule! It’s only been about five or six weeks since we talked. You’re not going to tell me that you’ve actually done the hokey pokey with him already?!”

“What? Who calls it hokey pokey?! And even if I have, I am not sharing the details with my big sister of all people!”

“So that means you have! Haha! Oh, my _God…_ and he must be _good,_ because you wouldn’t be shy about saying it if he wasn’t! Ah! Thank you, Spock, for ensuring my uptight baby sister finally got laid right!”

“Hey! I am not uptight… see, this is why I don’t waste my hard-earned credits calling you! You’re not my only sibling, you know!”

“Yeah, but Kamau won’t be half as understanding about this, and neither will Mama and Baba. And don’t get me started on Bibi… I mean, you haven’t had a steady boyfriend since your third year at the Academy, ‘Yo, and when you finally get one, he’s a _Vulcan?”_

“Well, he’s mixed! Spock’s father is Vulcan. His mother’s from Seattle...”

Makena couldn’t help it. She threw back her head and laughed hysterically. But she stopped when she saw her sister’s eyes were starting to fill with tears.

“What’s wrong? Is he hurting you? From everything I’ve heard about Vulcans, they can be difficult…”

“It’s not Spock.” In a few halting sentences, she filled Makena in about the mess she’d gotten herself into by dating Jabilo M’Benga. “And what’s so bad about this is that they recruited Jabilo for this mission specifically because of his knowledge of Vulcan anatomy…”

“Sounds like he’s not the only one who has that knowledge now!”

“I’m hanging up, Makena. Why did I even call you?”

“Why? You know you missed me. I’ve _lived_ to tease you ever since you were born.”

“Don’t I know it.” Sigh. “But this is no laughing matter, ‘Kena. Spock could face dishonorable discharge from the ‘Fleet, or even worse. What should I do?”

“You know what to do. You’re a Uhura woman. You hold your head high and tell that meddling mtu ajishughulishaye who calls himself a doctor that he needs to get out your business.”

“Jabilo’s not just a meddler in the eyes of Starfleet. It’s a serious charge, and he’s one of the few human physicians whose testimony about this might be believed.”

“Perhaps. But you can face it. Remember, our dearly _beloved_ parents allowed Bibi to arrange my marriage to that useless, shiftless mtu wavivu...”

“I think his name was Chuma,” said Nyota, much amused at the mention of her sister’s ex-fiance.

“All the same, my point is that I knew Angus was the one from the first moment we saw each other. And there was nothing that Mama, Baba, our overly opinionated Bibi, Chuma’s bibi, the rest of the elders, or the whole of Kitui could have done to prevent me being with him. You know my path wasn’t easy. Why should yours be?”

“Because I’m younger and wiser than you are?”

“Keep dreaming,” snorted Makena. “Anyway, if this Dr. M’Benga persists in treating you like a child, he will find that the Uhuras have friends in the Federation. Tell him to drop the charges, and we’ll find him someone nice. I hear Chuma’s sister is looking for a husband…”

“I really am hanging up now… Makena Adia Uhura Macallan, can you _please_ be serious for once in your life?”

“Not before you say hello to your niece and nephew,” Makena smirked. “You’ve already spent the credits. Might as well be a good shangazi for a change.”

“The next time I see you…”

“Promises, promises,” chuckled Makena, as her children ran into the room. Then muttered where they could not hear: “Just make sure there _is_ a next time.”

“Understood.”

And the two sisters held each other’s eyes, over the infinite miles between them, just before the kids piled atop their mother, blowing kisses to their spacefaring aunt.

 

*

 

Kirk thought it best to greet the arriving party in full dress uniform, something that McCoy couldn’t help but complain about.

“Dammit, Jim! Spock hasn’t been court martialed yet. This is just a hearing.”

“All the same, the Vulcan ambassador and at least two elders are going to be visiting our ship. We ought to extend to Sarek every courtesy possible.”

“Aye, captain, I agree,” said Scotty. “If only they made these collars a wee bit less tight!”

They were within transporter range of the Vulcan starship that had been sent to intercept them, so there was no need for a meet and greet in shuttle bay this time, just the transporter room. Kirk, Bones, and Scotty stood at attention as one of Scott’s best ensigns beamed over the delegation.

The air shimmered with the light of molecules being reassembled in instantaneous spacetime, and four figures materialized. Kirk’s eyes first went to the person who stood upon the centermost pad, Ambassador Sarek. To his right was his wife and bondmate, the human Amanda Grayson.

Spock’s parents.

“Live long and prosper,” greeted Sarek, giving the Vulcan salute.

“Live long and prosper,” Kirk echoed, doing his best to mirror the gesture. “Lieutenant Commanders McCoy and Scott join me in welcoming you aboard the _Enterprise.”_

Sarek looked them both over. “My wife, the Lady Amanda.”

“It’s good to see you boys again,” said Amanda, giving the Vulcan salute as well.

As startling as it was for Kirk to have Spock’s parents back on board, the next two guests were even more surprising.

“I believe you are already acquainted with my clan matriarch, T’Pau of Vulcan.”

Encountering T’Pau was much like meeting the queen. Kirk wasn’t sure whether to bow or kiss her hand. He did neither when the Vulcan elder held up the ta’al and said:

“Live long and prosper, Captain James Kirk, Dr. McCoy. This one is not often deceived, yet thou deceived this one.”

“We’re sorry about that, ma’am,” said McCoy politely, “but we did what we had to do in order to save Spock...”

“Save _Spock?_ What about my niece?”

The fourth and final member of the arriving party stepped off the transporter pad. He stood taller than all of the other humans by at least half a head, had laser-sharp eyes, and a regal teak visage that radiated experience, wisdom, and strength.

“Captain Kirk, Lieutenant Commanders,” said Sarek, “this is Ambassador Raheem Uhura. He is not only a celebrated Starfleet veteran, I believe that he is also the uncle of…”

“Nyota’s uncle,” interrupted Ambassador Uhura in a booming voice. “And I want to know just what the _hell_ is going on here.”

“I think we all do,” said Amanda. “Captain, where _is_ Spock?”

“He’s in the mainframe room. Come, we’ll take you there.”

 

*

 

Of all the things that Janice Rand and Charlene Masters thought they would be doing on a perfectly good off shift, coding wasn’t exactly high on the list. However, since their dates had been unceremoniously cancelled -- one via comm, the other via a furtive aside -- it wasn’t as if they had much else to do except spend it working with about a half dozen other volunteers on the special team in the mainframe room.

In here, there was not much evidence of the rumors that had run amok on the ship, or the fact that there would be a hearing as soon as the delegation from Vulcan arrived. Spock was commanding as ever, directing five different diagnostic procedures. Charlene was working on one program, and others from Engineering and Sciences were working on others. Janice trailed Spock, taking notes at the captain’s behest, and dispatching messages up to the bridge.

But as beta turned to gamma shift, the next person who came into the room caused the very air to shift.

It was rare to see Nyota Uhura out of uniform outside her own quarters. She was ever conscious of her role as the most visible female senior officer, and as such, prided herself on her uniforms being neatly pressed, knee-high regulation boots shined, with nary a hair or nail out of place. But as an alpha shift officer, she’d clearly changed into civvies, and washed her hair, and hadn’t bothered to change back for what was clearly a quick errand…

She was wearing a blouse, pedal pushers, and ballet flats. Her fluffy, curly hair was pulled back into a headband, clearly freshly washed but not yet straightened.

“I thought you’d like some tea,” she said, carrying in a tray with teapot, a covered dish, and several teacups. But both Rand and Masters noticed that her eyes seemed to focus on Spock. “It’s a rooibos blend I’ve had in my quarters for ages.”

All eyes were on Uhura and Spock as he took the heavy tray away from her to set atop a table. Gratefully, the tired and hungry team came over to partake.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, in a tone that no one in the room had ever heard from him before. Instead of his usual matter-of-fact monotone, it was as if his voice was almost _melodic_ as he spoke.

She smiled. “It’s not chai, but I figured rooibos… no caffeine.”

“It is very thoughtful of you.”

“There are a few snacks, too.” Her voice lowered to a whisper, but to their credit, they _were_ all listening carefully. “I know that you haven’t eaten much… you need to eat.”

“Vulcans can survive for several days without…”

“ _Eat,_ Spock, _”_ she told him. “Eat, drink, and take a break.”

She looked at Charlene and Janice, and the junior members of the diagnostic team.

“That goes for all of you. You can’t fix the programming if you don’t take care of yourselves. And since I outrank everyone in here except for the Commander, that means it’s an order.”

Uhura turned back to Spock.

“Do you wish to give me orders as well?” he asked her with an arched eyebrow.

“Now you know perfectly well that I can’t give a commander orders. But I can remind him that even _he_ needs to eat and drink every once in a while.”

“It is most gratifying to know that you are concerned about my health, Nyota.”

“You need your strength, Spock.”

Their eyes locked and they just _looked_ at each other.

“Are they having… _a conversation?”_ Janice asked Charlene, looking away with a blush, and lowering her voice as she sipped her tea.

Charlene Masters looked at the new couple, shook her head, and smiled. “Yes, and apparently it’s a private one, because they sure aren’t talking to anyone else.”

Rand shrugged, cracking her gum as she looked her fill of them. Uhura was smiling as she sipped her tea, her eyes never leaving Spock’s face. For his part, his eyes seemed to be drinking her in. The captain's yeoman had never seen Spock's gaze so intent on anything before.

“They’re kinda cute together,” she told Masters.

“You think?”

“Yeah. I bet she’s good for him. And you know Ny.” Sigh. “We’ve just got to figure out the whole Christine thing. I hate that we’re not all still friends.”

“I know what you mean.”

Teatime was interrupted by the arrival of the dignitaries, who followed the captain into the mainframe room. Everyone snapped to attention at the arrival of the captain, and the rest of the party whose formal attire contrasted to everyone else’s rumpled uniforms and off-duty apparel.

All except for Spock, that is. He set his nearly-empty teacup down on the tray smoothly, and stood at attentio. Hands clasped behind his back as usual.

“Captain, I have nearly ascertained the source of the recurring coding problem. I have been offered assistance running diagnostics on all ship’s systems in order to expedite solutions.”

Kirk nodded. “Sounds good, Spock. I look forward to being briefed in due course.”

Spock then turned to his parents and clan matriarch.

“Sa-mekh, Ko-mekh. Pid-kom. Dif-tor heh smusma.”

It was, of course, T’Pau who acknowledged his greeting, although Spock felt a slight hum in the maternal bond that mirrored the relief that was always on his mother’s face whenever she saw him.

“Sochya eh dif, Spock,” greeted the matriarch. Her fathomless black eyes went immediately to Uhura. “We shall begin immediately.”

“Begging your pardon, Lady T’Pau, but not before I greet my niece the human way,” said Ambassador Uhura, walking toward her. “Little star.”

Uhura smiled as she was enfolded in her uncle’s embrace. “Uncle Raheem! It is good to see you!”

As Nyota and Raheem greeted each other for the first time since her Starfleet graduation, T’Pau and Sarek conversed in low tones, while Amanda alternated between listening in their conversation, and looking over at Spock, concern written all over her face.

In a corner near one of the panels with many wires twisting out, Rand nudged Masters, pointing an elbow toward Spock, who was walking toward the embracing uncle and niece for an introduction of his own.

Masters giggled under her breath. “Come on, Mr. Spock, that’s her _uncle!”_ she whispered.

"You know how new passion can feel," Rand murmured back. "Other people feel like a distraction... even family members."

" _Especially_ family members," agreed Charlene Masters.

Spock approached the embracing Uhuras.

“Ambassador Uhura.”

Raheem Uhura let Nyota go, but kept an arm around his favorite niece’s shoulder.

“Commander.”

Spock’s eyes were on the ambassador’s arm and the lieutenant’s shoulder. “I regret that we were not able to meet under more amenable circumstances.”

“I am not here for a meet and greet, Commander. I am here because if you get to have your family here intervening on your behalf, my niece deserves the same. The Uhuras are not without friends in this sector.”

Spock bowed his head slightly. “I shall endeavor, then, to ensure your faith and trust in me to provide for and protect your niece...”

“Well, you’ve done a poor job protecting my niece's hard-won reputation so far! I’m not impressed.”

Uhura’s mouth dropped open. “Uncle Raheem!”

“Don’t ‘Uncle Raheem’ me. This _ambassador’s son_ has been in Starfleet nearly two decades. He knows that this is not the way to go about things.”

“Indeed, Ambassador Uhura,” Sarek affirmed. “That is why it is logical to commence this hearing with haste, especially given that the ship’s systems are compromised.”

“While advisable, that may not be necessary, Sa-mekh,” Spock said, observing as Ambassador Uhura released his niece’s shoulder.

Kirk was frowning. “Spock, we _have_ to have this hearing! You will face court martial if we don’t....”

“Indeed, captain. I will inevitably face hearing or trial if this continuity proceeds. However, the most logical solution to eradicating the incompatible code from the ship’s systems would also eliminate the need for this trial.”

Rand and Masters looked at each other. Had the Commander gone stark raving mad?

But Kirk and Uhura were looking at each other, then at Spock.

“No, Spock!” Uhura exclaimed softly. “Absolutely not. I won’t agree to it, and neither will the captain!”

Spock looked at each of the dignitaries, then at his captain, and finally at Uhura.

“If it will save the ship, Nyota, it is an option that must be considered.”

Kirk was shaking his head. “We’ve never gone back that far, Spock… or that long!”

“Affirmative, captain. But my prediction is that the Enterprise’s existing systems are able to withstand such a spatiotemporal shift. The diagnostics should be complete in the morning. Once completed, I will simply isolate the files from the alternate Enterprise once more, and with the assistance of Lieutenant Commander Scott, return the ship to the date, time, and location just before we encountered the spatial anomaly.”

There was silence, broken finally by Amanda, who was shaking her head as she expressed what they were all thinking.

“No wonder there would be no need for a trial, Spock,” Amanda said slowly, almost as if to herself. “It would be as if none of this ever happened at all.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Q. How do you reconcile the crack in a crack fic? A. Simply turn back the hands of time & act as if nothing ever happened at all. :)
> 
> Next time, we'll see the ultimate choice that Kirk, Spock and Uhura, and the rest make. As mentioned in earlier chapters, this is no longer the TOS timeline; why not hit the reset button and make the last 2 weeks' shenanigans disappear? It'd be logical from Spock's point of view, not to mention very Vulcan... after all, the needs of the many...
> 
> No matter what choice is made, I'll also wrap up the fic with lemon, since this chapter was surprisingly lemon-free. Thought about including a gratuitous voyeur scene since I ratcheted up the rating to E, but I figured this version of Spuhura's already far more exposed than they'd be comfortable with, with the hearing and all... I always headcanon them as an incredibly hot, but notoriously private couple. 
> 
> Now, I definitely think Uhura's got a teensy weensy bit of an exhibitionist in her (and I side-eye authors who write her as an introvert; neither TOS nor AOS Nyota is, at all, and I'm prepared to go meta on you to prove it), but in this chapter, Spock would be acutely aware that everyone was discussing and speculating upon what they did in private. He would NOT be OK with it. He'd temper his desires and needs with being super careful not to further compromise Nyota's position as a senior officer. Since at this juncture, they'd do nothing outside of their quarters, with full soundproofing, there wasn't really a way to write a hot scene this chapter from another character's POV. 
> 
> So, I'll likely just write an outtake or two. :) I've had a request for last chapter's shower scene to be written out; if there's an outtake you think happened here, let me know and I'll tackle that one, too.
> 
> One chapter left! I don't think it'll take as long. Until then, happy Halloweekend!


	10. All the Way 'Round

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spock & Uhura's POV.
> 
> Dedicated to KerryLamb, without whom this crackfic would've been abandoned! (Just kidding; I had to travel most of November for work, and last week, I had to catch up at the office.) Thanks for being such an amazing encourager, Kerry, and writer of fanfictional S/U sexytimes. :)
> 
> Penultimate chapter; there will be one more after this.

This was no time for a sonic shower.

Nyota Uhura allowed the spray of the water to wash the tears from her face. Here, away from prying eyes, she could finally release the stress and tension she’d been feeling. The tumult of emotions threatened to engulf her, and she wasn’t sure how to bear it.

After weeks of being unsure, she’d never been more sure of a choice in her life. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with Spock. How could she have thought she would be satisfied with Jabilo, just because he’d been kind to her?

And _why_  had she just agreed to go back to her life the way it was… before everything happened? She'd chosen duty over love, and it was tearing her apart...

 _I will remember,_ she promised herself. _We will remember._

 _But what if we don’t? What if we can’t?_ she thought as she slid the soap over her body absently, barely feeling the water as she rinsed. _What if we go back to the bridge, right after those foolish Cheronians beamed down to their planet? Before the anomaly?_

_Back when we were nothing more than fellow bridge officers, and…_

_Friends? Were we even that back then?_

“I don’t want to go back.”

She’d said it aloud, finally. Here, in the shower, in the middle of the night, in the privacy of her own quarters, she could say what she could not say to anyone in that mainframe room beyond her initial protest.

She was an officer of Starfleet.

She was a woman in love.

“I don’t _want_ to go back.”

As she said it again, her voice broke, and so did her spirit. Torn between wanting to remember the past two weeks, and the knowledge that she soon would not, she began to sob in earnest, sliding down to the tiled floor, letting the precious water of the shower cascade over her like the warm monsoon rains back home.

Suddenly, Uhura was no longer alone. She felt herself being lifted to her feet, the slide of water-slicked skin almost too warm against her body in the tiny shower stall.

“That’s… right, you can… feel… what I feel,” she stammered between great, gulping sobs, placing her palms flat against her mpenzi’s chest. “I didn’t... want to bother...”

“You are in distress,” was Spock’s reply.

She did not respond. She simply buried her face against his chest, crying until she realized he had gone perfectly still.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured against his pec. “I’m emotional, and you’re all wet.”

“There is no need to apologize.” Her shower cap had fallen off, but his fingers felt heavenly against her scalp. “It is my right to attend to your needs...”

“For now.” That started the tears again, as she tilted her head up to look at him. “How long will we remember this, Spock? _Will_ we remember any of this? What if things are like they were before, and we end up being _nothing_ to each other?

“What if we only had this moment, in this universe, to be together? What if this is our last night? All that nonsense with Jabilo! I’ve treated you both terribly. I’ve wasted so much time…”

Spock’s answer was not in words, but in his kiss as his mouth found hers. Uhura loved the way his tongue snaked against hers, not slow and lumbering like a human tongue, but quick and agile. He tasted like nothing she could describe and yet he’d become her favorite flavor of all. She could sip from his lips until the start of alpha shift and beyond, never tiring…

 _That is a mutual sentiment, ashayam,_ he sent along the bond, hands trailing down her spine, fingers teasing each vertebra through the skin, then reaching down to cup her ample ass, pulling her flush to his fast-hardening lok. Uhura’s arms came up to wrap around his neck, for balance as well as affection, and not a moment too soon, for her back was against the wall, and his teeth were in her neck.

Uhura felt pain mixed with pleasure as he ran the tip of his lok along the soft and inviting petals of her keshtan-ur, teasing the tiny bud at the top with a single fingertip, as his pelvis found purchase between silken, shower-wet thighs. Her nails scratched at the nape of Spock’s neck, and one of those purring growls she so loved rumbled his chest…

_Take me. Now._

And he obliged, sliding easily and deeply into the space he’d carved within her, into that place where only he’d ever taken up residence. Uhura felt all the air leave her lungs as she emitted a scream that was more like a hoarse, plaintive cry… as his thoughts flooded her mind.

_You are the most gratifying creature in the galaxy._

_No other may have you. You are mine._

_I will not forget._

Uhura wondered if she’d always be helpless in the face of their mutual desire. Her nails ran down his back, first slowly, then harder, with intent, scoring the pale skin stretched so precisely over supple muscle as he fucked her slowly, maddeningly, _precisely_ into her shower wall. His tongue licked at the bite he’d just created, unusually wet from the shower. A sound that split the difference between a hum and a purr hit her ears, and Spock’s content flooded her senses.

As did his lust. Uhura knew that the emotion intertwined with his content was not exactly like the lust that a fully human man would experience. This was far more elemental, closer to instinct than to anything rational. Hot green swirled in her mind as his lok repeatedly found the spot deep inside her that never failed to make her melt for him.

Uhura opened her mouth to speak, to moan, to scream, and found herself ensnared in his kiss once more as he pounded her relentlessly.

 _I love you,_ she thought, breathing in the wet, coppery-sandalwood scent of his skin, clutching his shoulders, spreading her thighs wide, legs wrapped around his slender hips, ankles crossed at the base of his spine. _I love you, I love you, I love you._

 _K’hat’n’dlawa,_ was his reply, filling her mind.

And together, they tumbled over the edge.

 

*

 

Spock thought to have his fill of Uhura, to selfishly indulge his illogical need for her one last time before returning to the mainframe room to oversee the final diagnostic tests before the slingshot maneuver was attempted.

After all, preparations had been made to attempt to return the Enterprise to the time before the anomaly. His parents, the Lady T’Pau, and Nyota’s uncle had returned to the Vulcan ship Nyran in case the time warp would somehow affect them, since they weren’t on the ship when the anomaly first occurred.

If his hypothesis failed, and they could not return to the past, the hearing would be held as scheduled. The changes to the ship would continue to be monitored, and another Constitution class ship in the sector was on the way to rescue the crew in case the worst happened.

Yet failure was not an option. The fate of the ship was at stake.

Spock would not fail. He _could not_ do so.

_The needs of the many…_

But this vivacious, talented, illogical, exceedingly pleasing human woman in his arms seemed to satisfy all his needs. Spock did not want to go back in time at all. He wanted to make their bond permanent, to always hear her laughter and her voice in his mind no matter where he went in the universe. He wanted to have her family’s permission to marry her in the human fashion, to make her his wife in the eyes of her people and his. He wanted to share not only her quarters, but also to be _hers_ for the rest of her life.

And although it was illogical and perhaps impossible thanks to the science that made him possible, he wanted her to swell with his child, planted within her womb as he knotted her just then. Scrambling for the sensor to switch the shower’s setting from water back to sonic and infrared, he moved his mate away from the wall, holding her against him as she shuddered with the aftermath of their passion.

Her blunt human teeth tickled his shoulder enticingly. _Bite, ashal-veh,_ he ordered, pushing at her mind, needing for her mouth to be filled with him as surely as her keshtan-ur was. She bit, maddeningly gently, her swirling thoughts a mixture of pleasure, desperation, and sweet surrender.

She thought they were engaging in intercourse for the last time.

He would soon disabuse her of that notion.

Stepping out of the shower stall, still knotted, he reached out an arm for her towel. Wrapping it around her back, he perched her against the narrow sink, savoring her gasps and cries as the new position shifted them both. While knotted, he stretched her nearly beyond her limit, so he was typically gentle with her as she spiraled through peak after peak. He knew that by melding with her, he could stretch out their mutual pleasure for hours on end… but her body had limits, and now was not the time to test them, with so much at stake.

Perhaps someday.

Today was not that day. Sufficiently caring for a mate so delicate and fragile was as great a responsibility as any of his duties on the ship. But the temptation to seek her psi-points and fuse their minds together permanently was almost too great to resist…

He could not. One meld more, and they would be bonded in truth without the vital assistance of an elder. Spock was a strong telepath despite his mixed heritage, but he was no healer.

Spock would not endanger his Nyota’s health any more than he already had.

Knot subsiding, he slid from her warmth reluctantly, one hand on her hip, the other on the back of her neck...

Despite her soft, sleepy smile, her eyes were still awash with tears.

“I know you have to get back to the mainframe…”

“I shall do so in due course. But not until you are asleep.”

Her fingers came up to dash at her face. “I didn’t plan to nap long. I’ll be needed on the bridge for the maneuver.” Dry, humorless laugh. “Perhaps we’ll get more rest when the timeline resets.”

Spock did not wish to resist his illogical impulse to kiss her full, soft lips.

So he did not. He indulged, savoring the press of her mouth against his.

“I was so foolish, Spock,” Nyota said wistfully, as the tears ran down her face. “I wish we'd had more time.”

Spock’s fingers came up to capture each rivulet formed against her brown skin.

“Nyota, I surmise that there would not be time enough to demonstrate the full measure of my affection for you, even if we commenced at the start of the universe, and were forced to cease at its theorized heat death...”

That made her laugh despite her tears. “Oh, Spock. I’ll love you forever too, mpenzi.”

“Since forever is a statistical impossibility,” his fingers lifted her chin, “the balance of this shift will have to suffice.”

 

*

After they dried off, he carried her to bed, where they made love again.

Then they talked. Despite the futility of it, it was as if they were attempting to crowd a lifetime of conversations, things implied, things  misunderstood, and things that might never be, into the few short moments left to them.

“You really were spying on my dinner with Jabilo, weren’t you?” Uhura asked, stroking his chest softly.

“A Vulcan bond is not the equivalent of human ‘spying,’ or even ‘eavesdropping,’” he informed her. “As my intended bondmate, it was illogical for you to dine with him in such a fashion.”

“Just admit it. You were jealous.”

“You were _mine,”_ he corrected, the hand of the arm that was not holding her caressing her cheek, enjoying the enticing play of her emotions against his fingertips.

“Speaking of that dinner, how is it that you remember what Kollos said about me?” she wanted to know. “I thought he’d completely taken over your mind.”

”The Medusan ambassador had access to my memories when I melded with him,” Spock explained. “Those words about you did not belong to Kollos. They were mine. I found Byron’s ancient verse to be an apt metaphor to describe you, Khiori t'nash-veh.”

The Vulcan word for star, she reflected. _My star,_ he’d called her. _Star-belonging-to-me._ There seemed to be no end to the number of endearments that her stoic, logical alien had stored up for her.

“You could have just told me,” she complained. “All this time, before the anomaly, I had no idea.”

Spock reflected. “The strong emotions you evoke in me are illogical. Had it not been for the captain’s idea to host that party, I would not have revealed my feelings. I would have endeavored to rid myself of them, and remained your colleague and friend, with you being none the wiser.”

“Well, it sounds as if I wasn’t the only one wasting time.” Sigh. “Two weeks ago, I thought I had an unrequited crush. But you… you use so many different words for me in your thoughts, but there are two you won’t say aloud… so is the appropriate Vulcan word ko-telsu, or is it adun’a?”

“Both are appropriate,” he confirmed. “Ko-telsu is the term for a female bondmate, and adun’a means wife.”

“I suppose that ‘romantic dining with other men’ isn’t in the job description for a proper Vulcan wife and bondmate, is it?” she said.

Spock sent her a frisson of his amusement through both her skin and their fledgling bond. “Not unless the woman in question wishes for her husband to be responsible for murder.”

“If only,” she mused. “Seems like just having that infernal hearing about those silly charges against you would be far easier than going back to what we once were.”

“We may not know.”

“But we retained our memories from Psi 2000. We remembered both sets of events. 71 hours… that's nearly three days!”

“Three days is not 2.7145 weeks, Nyota.”

She grinned up at him. “I love the way you do that.”

“Explain.”

“Your internal chronometer.”

“That is a sentiment not shared by most humans.”

“Well, I’m not most humans. Especially to you, baby.”

Spock’s eyes twinkled at her. _No, you are not. Would a tangible demonstration of the differences I perceive between you and all others be amiss at this time?_

She giggled inwardly. _You’re getting very good at talking me out of my clothes._

_I strive to excel in all my endeavors. Since you are not wearing any clothing, I am gratified by my continued success where you are concerned._

Nyota chortled aloud as she launched herself back atop her lover.

There would be time enough for tears, later.

That is, if she even remembered this moment.

_Remember._

 

*

 

Three hours later, back in the mainframe room, all diagnostics were nearing completion. Less than three hours remained before alpha shift. After the senior officers were back on the bridge, they would attempt to reverse time one hour later.

Not long before, Spock had left Nyota sleeping in her quarters. He had burned her image into his memory, and now, while part of his mind worked on the task ahead, the rest was recalling his time with her.

Despite the assurances he’d given her, he wondered if he would remember after the maneuver was completed. He’d glimpsed a universe where his katra had gravitated toward her, and yet, that universe itself was created by another version of him who had not. Who had only ever seen her as a friend…

He had promised to return to her in an hour, so that she could prepare for their final morning in this timeline.

_Promise that you won’t send us all back in time without saying goodbye._

Suddenly, a wild-eyed Scotty burst into the mainframe room, shaking his head.

“It’s no use, Mr. Spock. The alternate Enterprise’s code has got into the warp systems! If this continues, we cannae possibly use the lightspeed breakaway factor during alpha shift. It'll be too late!”

“Explain.”

“There’s some kind of a failsafe built into that code. Those engineers, the ones in the other universe…”

“...would have every reason to inhibit their ships from traveling in time after the incidents that resulted in so many catastrophic losses,” Spock finished, moving toward the door. “I will attempt to slow the advance of their coding.”

“Already done,” said Scotty. “Char… Lieutenant Masters and two of your new ensigns managed to slow the takeover of our systems. They’ve bought us a wee bit o’ time.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I would like to review…”

“There’s no time for that, Mr. Spock. When I said a wee bit o’ time, I meant it.”

“How long?”

“Fifteen minutes. Perhaps twenty.”

Spock turned away from Scotty without another word, hitting the intercom.

“Mainframe room to Captain Kirk.”

1.3 seconds later, “This is Kirk.”

“Captain, there have been new developments in the preparation for the slingshot maneuver back in time.”

“I’ll see you on the bridge then. Give me five minutes.”

 

*

 

In her quarters, in bed, Nyota stirred.

_Spock?_

_I did not wish to wake you, ashayam. However, you asked me to summon you before the maneuver._

She sat up in bed. Looked at the time.

_Wait a minute. It’s only 0535! I thought we had until 0900… one hour into alpha shift, that was the plan..._

_The alternate universe’s rogue code has gotten into our warp systems. The Federation of that reality has a vested interest in stopping time travel, given the cataclysms that have occurred as a result. We must act immediately if there is to be an attempt to return to the time before the anomaly occurred._

_So this is goodbye._

_If the maneuver succeeds, yes._

No time for a face-to-face farewell, then. She wouldn’t cry or mourn. She’d shed all her tears earlier.

Instead, Nyota pressed her eyes shut, letting the love she felt for him flood their link.

 _We will find each other again, mpenzi,_ she told him. _Even if the maneuver succeeds. And if it fails, Spock, it isn’t your fault. It’s fate._

_Kaiidth, my Nyota._

_That’s your Vulcan half talking, sugar. Your human half doesn't believe that. He knows that there’s something beyond us all. After all, the two of us found each other, didn’t we?_

His response was not in words, but in an all-encompassing sensation that knocked her flat on her back again.

What he felt for her was so much more profound than human love.

And every cell of her knew it just then.

_Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, k'hat'n'dlawa._

_I love you, mpenzi wangu. With all my heart, and all my soul. And I’ll be here with you as we go back…_

_No, you will not. You will rest… and you will dream._

She suddenly felt extremely drowsy. Spock had projected calm and rest into his melds a few times before, so that she slept… could he do it through their bond?

_No, Spock! Don’t you dare…_

_I will not allow you to be distressed over our fate, k’diwa. Sleep now._

Nyota didn’t even have time to protest or express her exasperation before she was sleeping once again.

 

*

 

“It’s a simple enough maneuver, Spock,” said Kirk. “We’ve done it several times.”

“We are attempting to move ourselves in time and space, over a considerable distance, without visual contact,” was Spock’s reply. "That is not 'simple.'"

“Sure it is. We do that with transporters all the time.”

“We do not. If transwarp particle beaming were possible, it would preclude the need for spaceships, let alone Starfleet.”

Kirk nodded. "Good point."

Spock refrained from allowing the corner of his mouth to quirk. He knew that his captain and friend had no patience with the astrophysics behind _why_ they would be able to make this attempt. That was always his job, as science officer and first officer, to come up with the solutions so that Jim could make the ultimate decision.

They made a formidable team.

Although Kirk was as reluctant as Uhura and the others to attempt the slingshot maneuver, in the end, Spock had convinced everyone that it was the only way to save the ship. The alternative would be to wait until evacuation was possible from another Constitution class vessel. Current levels of technology precluded the feasibility of hauling the Enterprise back to Spacedock. Like other ships they’d encountered in space, it would have to be abandoned.

It was the only way. If the maneuver succeeded, the Enterprise would be restored to her condition after she’d pulled away from distant Cheron. If it failed, the Vulcan ship Nyran would be standing by, ready to lend assistance and temporary shelter for the crew. It would be a very tight fit, with conditions unpleasant for the humans aboard unused to Vulcan gravity, atmosphere, and rations, but it would save the lives of the crew.

It was the only logical solution.

Spock knew that perhaps he would not retain his memories of the past 2.7156 weeks. But if he did, he would immediately ask Nyota to dine with him on the captain’s private observation deck after their next ka’athyra lesson. He would give his star the human courtship that she desired.

This time, she would wear that fetching garment for _him_ , sway in _his_ arms to illogically intriguing Earth jazz music, and walk through the corridors side-by-side with _him_.

Things would be different this time.

He would make it so.

Kirk signaled the engine room. “Ready, Scotty?”

“Aye, captain. Ready whenever you are.”

Kirk looked at Spock.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

“Sulu, engage.”

 

*

 

_Uhura blinked awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Why had she slept so deeply? And who was calling her name?_

_“Lieutenant Uhura… Lieutenant…”_

_Uhura opened her eyes._

_Her console was in front of her. She was fully dressed and sitting at her station on the bridge. She looked up and into the captain’s eyes._

_“You fell asleep on us, Lieutenant.”_

_“I’m sorry, Captain,” was her reply. She looked around at all the boys on the bridge staring at her with barely contained amusement… except Spock, who looked up from his scanner impassively to regard her, held her gaze for a moment, then looked back at the scanner._

_Uhura felt her face flush with embarrassment. She could only guess at what their strict first officer thought about her lapse. She prided herself on being totally alert, no matter how boring the shift. The journey back from Cheron was taking quite a bit of time through uneventful stretches of space._

_Evidently, her mind was willing, but her body was weak._

_“I didn’t know that such a pretty little lady_ could _snore,” said Sulu to Chekov, who laughed._

_“Shut up, Mister D’Artagnan,” she snapped back. “There’s plenty I could say about you if the captain wasn’t here.”_

_“Lieutenants,” chided Kirk, although his voice was amused and his hazel eyes danced. “Let’s have order on the bridge.”_

_Sulu smiled at Uhura, who returned it. They were really good friends, despite their occasional back and forth._

_Just before she turned to her station, she saw that Mr. Spock was looking in her direction again. His face was unreadable as usual._

_“Something the matter, Commander?”_

_“Negative, Lieutenant. However, with the readings I have been picking up from the system ahead, I would suggest you return to monitoring the subspace chatter for sentience. There may be intelligent life.”_

_She felt embarrassed all over again. In his Vulcan way, Spock had just told her she had been negligent in her duties._

_“Of course, sir.”_

_She couldn’t shake her drowsiness, though. It was a struggle to remain awake through the rest of her shift, during dinner afterward, and especially in the rec room._

_“What’s eating you?” asked Rand, looking at her curiously as she stared into space._

_Uhura pinched the bridge of her nose. “Nothing. Just feeling a little low energy, that’s all.”_

_“I’ll say,” Masters chimed in, sitting down with a deck of cards. “We’re overdue for shore leave. I’d give anything to feel planetary gravity instead of what the ship’s been simulating.”_

_“Maybe that’s it, Charlene,” Uhura said. “I don’t know.”_

_“Sure it is, Nyota,”_ was Chapel’s reply. “ _Deep space travel not only affects our anatomy, it does a number on our psychology, too.”_

_Uhura nodded. She thought that a friendly game of bridge with her friends would set her to rights. But when Spock entered with his ka’athyra, the strange, drugged feeling threatened to overwhelm her._

_“He’s so handsome and he doesn’t even know it,” sighed Chapel dreamily. “What I wouldn’t give for him to serenade me.”_

_Rand elbowed her. “Knock it off, Christine, you know Vulcans aren’t into that.”_

_“Ny, are you going to sing with him?” Masters asked._

_Uhura watched as Spock took his ka’athyra out of his case, sat down, and positioned his fingers precisely over the strings. He looked up, and straight at where the ladies were sitting, as if waiting for a request._

_“Oh, play ‘Beyond Antares’ for us, Mr. Spock!” shouted Chapel._

_“I shall endeavor to do so if Miss Uhura would accompany me.”_

_Uhura blinked with confusion. “Hm?”_

_Although the smile had faded from Chapel’s face, Rand and Masters were encouraging her to go to him…_

_Go to him…_

_But Uhura’s feet were fixed. She could not walk because she was lying down. She was not in the rec room._

_She was in bed._

_She had been sleeping._

She was now awake.

 

*

 

Kirk hit the intercom. “Scotty, report.”

“Engines are fine, captain. But nothing happened. We tried our best, but the slingshot maneuver failed.”

“I know that, Scotty. All of our indicators show that we’re at the same stardate and position. I need to know what happened.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Mr. Scott, please review all engineering systems,” called Spock, his voice more raised than usual. “If there was any energy output, then something did happen. We must investigate what.”

But the cargo bay team was on the intercom. “Shuttle bay to bridge.”

“This is the captain.”

“Captain Kirk, the probe from the strange ship! It’s gone! We were clearing space to store it, but it just disappeared!”

Spock was at the captain’s chair in two strides, signaling the mainframe room. “Bridge to mainframe.”

“Lieutenant Masters here, Commander.”

“Lieutenant,” said Kirk, catching Spock’s eye, “check all systems for the code and files from the alternate Enterprise. Report back.”

“Yes, Captain, but I can see from my console that warp programming’s back to normal.”

“Check all systems, Lieutenant,” said Kirk. “Use all Engineering and Science staff at your disposal.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Kirk out.” He turned to Spock. “Explanations?”

“Apparently, Captain, while the maneuver did not send us back to the designated spacetime, my hypothesis is that it did reset the condition of the Enterprise to what it would have been had we not encountered the anomaly.”

“So their code, the historical and biographical files…”

“I would submit to you that they no longer exist. At least, not in this universe.”

Sulu was shaking his head. “But Mr. Spock, I remember every minute of the last two weeks…”

“That’s because _we_ were not reset. The Vulcan ship with my parents, T’Pau, and Lieutenant Uhura’s uncle is still in rendezvous with the Enterprise. All of the events of the past 2.7151 weeks are part of our collective, shared past -- a past that now only exists for those who were aware of the material that no longer is...”

“Spock, you’re making my head hurt,” complained Kirk.

The doors to the turbolift opened. It was McCoy.

“I suppose this means that it didn’t work,” said the doctor wryly, “as the first thing I did when we stopped suddenly was to check my most recent medical records. They’re unchanged.”

Kirk sighed.

“Which means that the ship is no longer in trouble, but we’ve traded one set of troubles for another.”

And he looked directly at Spock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As mentioned up top, this one got a bit long, and it's been a while since I've updated, so I figured that I'd just update now and finish the fic sometime this week or weekend. I've got about 6 pages of the next chapter already written, and the rest plotted out.
> 
> In the interest of full disclosure, I have felt a little... weird... about the number of hits (over 1400!) with not as many kudos (around 70). I'm interpreting it as being really terrible at writing Spuhura stories. Many people are intrigued by the premise, but maybe not feeling the crack that much? Which is understandable. I said up front that this was a super weird premise, didn't I? ;-)
> 
> What counts is that I'm still having tons of fun writing the story. I wanted to see if I could do it, and this fic bunny wouldn't let me go. I have another bunny or two up my sleeve, but it depends upon how work goes. It tends to be merciless.
> 
> Endless love for my Chapter 9 reviewers: Candace McKinley, nyotarules, Jades, KerryLamb, Frau_Blucher, MarcusTheWu, CassoBlanca, and DarlingSherlock.


	11. You Are The Way You Are (Deluxe Album Bonus Track)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Every good crackfic must come to an end... and I've iced this cake like a boss! (All puns intended.)
> 
> Thanks to KerryLamb for her encouragement via chat! And thanks to all of you for taking this ride.

**_Multiple POVs._ **

**A/N: trigger & content warning for sexual assault hearing.**

 

Uhura was getting ready for the hearing when an unexpected visitor dropped by her quarters.

She already knew that the maneuver was a partial success. Although she’d never voice it aloud to Spock, she had the sneaking suspicion that wherever those files had gotten off to, the ship’s matter-antimatter slingshot _had_ tried to return them to the trajectory they would have been on…

Her dream wasn’t just a dream.

It actually happened.

_There is no shame in your musings, k’diwa. You need not hide them from me._

She’d slowed her comb with a rueful smile. _When your boyfriend is a famous astrophysicist, and you barely managed full marks in your Academy course, then yes, a girl might hesitate before speculating wildly about time travel._

_Your speculations are not baseless. Therefore, you have no need to hesitate, except in calling me your “boyfriend,” for I am far more than that to you._

Uhura wondered if he would always make her blush, and her heart flutter…

_Affirmative. As I find your response to me quite gratifying, it is my intention to do all that I must to evoke it._

She blushed even more, growing aroused, remembering.

_I shall also teach you how to shield your thoughts from me, although not until the hearing is concluded._

Uhura wasn’t looking forward to that hearing any more than he was. Nonetheless, she felt his hesitation as plainly as if she could see it on his face. _Why don’t you want to teach me to shield?_

_I am Vulcan, my Nyota. You are very nearly my bonded-one. Thus, I desire your every thought and emotion. I hunger for the fullness of your unshielded mind as much I hunger for the sensation of your unclothed body against mine… my mind longs to plunge into the depths of your thoughts as surely as my lok longs to explore the depths of your keshtan-ur..._

She couldn’t go to the hearing in this state! She was _definitely_ wet.

_Spock, this hearing is serious business! You’re facing possible court-martial and dismissal from the ‘Fleet! Our careers may never recover, and yet, all I can think about is…_

Once again, she was drowning in that alien, green fire that was becoming familiar as her own breathing. _Shon’ha-lock,_ his father had named it on the subspace call...

_Recall that I faced a similar fate not long ago for the sake of a friend. Christopher Pike was my captain. You are half of my heart and soul. I risked my career for him willingly. For the one I would have as my cherished bondmate and wife, this hearing is as nothing._

Before Uhura could reply, even in thought, the door chimed. Which was a good thing, because she was both aroused and speechless.

_I’ll see you at the hearing, sugar._

_You will see me before then, k’diwa. I estimate finishing my report on the maneuver in 12.7 minutes. Once I do so, I will come to your quarters and escort you._

_Spock, if you come to my quarters, neither of us are going to make it to that hearing,_ she thought as she uttered aloud the command to unlock the door _. And given the charges, that’s the last thing we need…_

When she saw who it was, Uhura was mortified.

_It’s your mother! Stop!_

“Nyota, dear,” said Amanda, coming into the room. “I beamed back over the moment they would allow me to do so. I wanted to speak to you.”

It was as if a splash of cold water had dampened her ardor. At the back of her mind, she felt Spock’s amusement as he turned his attention elsewhere… although she knew he never completely withdrew from her consciousness. How could he leave her like that just before her first face-to-face talk with… _his mother?_

“You’re going to have to tell my son to let you concentrate on something other than him,” Amanda chided. “This is all new to him, thanks to that _creature_ my husband and his family secured as his first bondmate. Knowing Spock, he’s probably in your head much more than he should be. T’Pau needs to check and strengthen your bond first… he knows better!”

Uhura couldn’t help it. Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

Amanda was clearly amused. She walked over to where Nyota sat on the bed, bent down, and kissed her forehead.

“Welcome to being bonded to a Vulcan, ko-fu,” said the older woman. “And while I’m at it, welcome to the family.”

Uhura gestured to the nearby chair. “We’re at least a hearing away from that, aren’t we?”

“No matter how this hearing turns out, I don’t think my son will let you go,” she said amicably, settling down into her chair. “He gets that from his father. Vulcans are a stubborn and proud species, but S’chn T’gai men are the most stubborn of them all.”

“S’chn T’gai.” Nyota’s mouth wrapped around the unfamiliar syllables. She didn’t say them quite as fluently as Amanda did, but her attempt was close. “Is that…”

“Our family name. Spock’s and Sarek’s, T’Pau’s, and all those before then. And mine… soon, it will be yours as well.”

“But you still use Grayson.”

“Vulcans have great disdain for the way that humans pronounce their clan names. Few can, so they typically omit them when speaking to outworlders. In Federation Standard and on Earth, I am Lady Amanda Grayson; in Vulcan and on T’Khasi, I am T’Sai S’chn T’gai Amanda.”

Uhura shook her head. “There’s so much I don’t know.”

“You know more than I did when I met Sarek. At least you have proficiency in Vulcan. You even know how to play the ka’athyra…”

She giggled. “I think your son would disagree with that assessment!”

Amanda joined in the mirth. “And his father would chide me for exaggerating.” She reached out to take Nyota’s hands in hers. “At times like this, I wish we were touch telepaths, like them.”

“Why?”

“So you could know just how _overjoyed_ I feel about _you_ , darling. My Spock has found not only a bondmate, but a soulmate. A human. Like _me._ ” Her eyes locked with Nyota’s. “I don’t know how much you know about T’Pring…”

“Not much. The captain and the doctor went to the surface with Spock. What happened down there was classified. We did get to see her, though. She was beautiful.”

“And cruel,” Amanda told her, eyes filling with tears. “T’Pring’s parents wanted a match with the House of Surak. That girl never cared about Spock, not even when they were children. She was embarrassed to be bonded to my son!”

“From what I understand, she was just a child,” Uhura told her softly. “Perhaps she was afraid…”

“Please don’t make excuses for her, Nyota. Spock was a child, too... and lonely.”

Uhura felt so sad hearing that. She didn’t yet know much about Spock’s childhood. Speaking with his mother was shedding much-needed light on the very private man she found herself in love with.

“I knew she would not improve as she got older. Vulcans do not change the way humans do! Oh, I protested, but T’Pau and Sarek overruled my objections, which they saw as irrational and human. I backed down, but without the intervention of Spock’s friends, he would have been lost when his Time came! He could have died over the scheme T’Pring pulled when he needed her the most!”

Her tears spilled over. Uhura squeezed her right hand as Amanda used her left to dab at her eyes.

“I won’t let your son die, Amanda. I know you’ll have advice for me in due course. And I’ll listen. When his Time comes again, I won’t fail him, or you, or… any of you. I love him too much.”

“I know you do, dear, and I have no doubt that you’ll do just fine,” said Amanda softly. “I have been Sarek’s bondmate for 43 years, and have gone through the Fires with him a half dozen Times. Do not listen to what T’Pau or others will tell you, that is, when they bother to tell you much at all. Human women, we’re stronger than they give us credit for.”

Uhura bit her lip, hesitating a beat before she spoke again.

“Have you been… happy? With the Ambassador, I mean?”

“Beyond happy. _More_ than happy. Unquestionably. There isn’t a human word to define what Sarek and I have. And you’re one of the only ones who will ever believe me when I say it. Because you _know_.”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes, remembering the night of the party that seemed so far away and long ago. “I know it’s Spock, and no one else, for me.”

“He feels the same about you. Sarek and I sensed your initial bonding, almost but not quite three weeks ago.”

In spite of herself, Uhura gasped. How much could his parents listen in on? Or even worse, could they _peek..._

“Oh no, we don’t get details!” Amanda threw back her head and chuckled indulgently. “Vulcans are far too private for that. It’s just that we sensed that Spock was no longer alone. Even now, sitting here, I can feel you in my mind, through him.”

Uhura exhaled with relief. “Oh, I see. Sorry, for a moment, I was worried that…”

“Spock’s family would get a play-by-play every time you were intimate? Of course not! Imagine how I felt when I first melded with Sarek… he had a young son already!”

Blink. “Spock has… a _brother?”_

“Half brother technically, but yes. I’ll let Spock tell you that story in due course.” Her smile faded. “Anyway, I came to be with you before the hearing, and to see if you would be open to a meld from T’Pau to check your bond beforehand. It would help with the testimony.”

Uhura immediately felt reluctant. After all, T’Pau was the one who nearly let Spock die during his last Time… did she really want her touching her mind?

_It is our way, k’diwa. She is my honored grandmother, our clan’s matriarch. Her presence here does us great honor. She will not harm you._

“I don’t think she likes me,” Uhura said aloud. She wasn’t sure if it was directed to Spock in her head, his mother sitting across from her, or both.

“You know, I felt the same way when I first met her,” said Amanda thoughtfully. “I was very young, much younger than you are now. And T’Pau was famous around the Federation. But she neither liked nor disliked me. I just was.”

“Did she approve of your relationship?”

“Not at first. She thought it was illogical for Sybok -- my stepson, and Spock’s brother -- to have a human stepmother. She also didn’t believe that a mere komihn would be able to endure a Vulcan male’s Time. She felt Sarek was needlessly risking his life. The success of our marriage and bonding has helped her see the logic of it.”

“Well, that’s generous of her.” Uhura shook her head. “I’ve gotten us all into such a mess. It was as if I didn’t know my own mind at first…”

“Imagine what I felt when I realized I was falling for the Ambassador, who was my boss at the time.”

Uhura’s mouth dropped open. “I thought you were a teacher!”

“I was working for the Vulcan embassy, in linguistics,” explained Amanda. “Again, another story for another time. But I think T’Pau is ready for us now. Come, let us find her, and get this hearing over and done with.”

*

 

Spock savored his k’diwa’s reactions to his mental pleasuring as he finished his report about the maneuver. All the same, the familial link signaled that his father was drawing nearer. It was logical to assume that Sarek wanted to speak with him before the hearing.

Since their reconciliation the year before, Sarek and Spock spoke on an infrequent basis as the occasion permitted. Amanda would have preferred to have regular subspace calls, but as the Enterprise was often out of communication range, and Spock’s duties were numerous, this was impractical. However, Spock found that his conversations with his father were not altogether without merit when they occurred.

“ _Spokh_ ,” said Sarek, as he entered his son’s quarters. “You must allow your ko-telsu rest.”

Spock waited.

“She is human, Spock. You have been used to telepathic contact since childhood. She has not. It is only logical to see to her needs thus.”

“I am not in need of your advice regarding she who will be my mate, Sa-mekh,” Spock retorted. “What exists between us remains between us.”

“And yet it is logical to provide that advice if the health of my ko-fu is at stake.”

Spock’s face did not change. Long had he been committed to the ways of Surak, but Surak help him if he did not wish to roll his eyes at his father’s critique. Sarek demanded perfection from his younger son, as if that would enable some on T’Khasi to overlook Spock’s half-human heritage.

It did not matter. Spock had long been his own Vulcan, forging a path and a career for himself despite censure from the one whom he most wanted to please as a child. And now that he had his Nyota’s regard, there was nothing that Sarek could say to him that could penetrate his certitude that the life he’d built aboard the Enterprise was the optimal outcome for him.

As for whether his frequent melds and subsequent bond with Nyota had damaged her in any way, he, too, had concerns. Nonetheless, his concerns were insufficient to tamp down the compulsion to take her again and again, body and mind, to revel in her adoration for him that bubbled over like the spicewine that had swayed her into his arms once and for all. What existed between bondmates was inviolate according to Vulcan law and custom. Sarek’s observations were inappropriate.

The very thought that he would allow himself to _damage_ Nyota in any way cut Spock deeply. Indeed it was mostly out of extreme regard for her person, her reputation, and her career that he’d held her at arm’s length until recently.

Spock said none of this as he considered his father’s judgment. Instead, he concentrated on the fluttery light at the back of his consciousness where he’d muted his Nyota’s thoughts as she conversed with his mother. Unlike the cold, distant link that had been his bond with T’Pring, Nyota was ever alive, warm, and _fragrant_ in his mind, as if her laughter would break the surface should he turn his thoughts in her direction.

“Nyota is unharmed,” he said firmly to his father. “I do not wish to discuss the matter further.”

For a moment, Sarek seemed as if he wanted to continue. Spock saw the flicker in his father’s dark, Vulcan eyes that he couldn’t quite hide.

“Very well, sa-fu. I shall only be an observer in the hearing, but I would like to know your version of what the doctor saw. Your thoughts, give them to me.”

Sarek’s olive hands, so much like Spock’s paler ones, found his son’s psi-points quite easily. He only held the meld for less than a Terran minute, careful to preserve his adult sa-fu’s privacy, only reviewing what the doctor likely witnessed. He saw the encounters that Spock and M’Benga had before and during the landing party, their confrontation in Uhura’s quarters, and finally, the brief moment that the doctor glanced Spock and Nyota together when he left them to talk in her quarters.

 _Is this the extent of the doctor’s evidence against you?_ Sarek asked, prepared to withdraw from his son’s mind.

_As far as I am aware, save for the conversations that he had with my ko-telsu._

_You are aware of their nature as well?_

_Ha, Sa-mekh._

_Very well. T’Pau will assess those as she examines your bond and the events pertaining to the doctor’s charges._

Sarek released Spock’s face. Both Vulcans were silent for a moment; long had been the years since father and son had directly touched each other’s minds, and the renewed parent-child link had been most unsettling.

“Though I am no healer, from what I could ascertain, your bond with your intended is healthy,” said Sarek, breaking the silence.

“The human healer believes that it is not of Nyota’s volition.”

“Yes,” said Sarek. “I was similarly accused of improprieties where your mother was concerned.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“There are some among our people who argue that a non-telepathic alien cannot consent to a Vulcan bond. I was told at the time that humans were like children, but children without the ability for logic or reason.” Pause. “Apparently, your doctor is familiar with the case.”

“It is doubtful that our authorities would have permitted a human healer access to classified documents, Sa-mekh…”

“Our case was not classified, Spock. It is part of the literature on your conception, gestation, and birth, for there was much speculation on your chances of survival. In the years since your birth, others have used what has been written to warrant the rare bonding between Vulcans and other Federation species.”

“I have not read the doctor’s complaint,” admitted Spock. Expediency in saving the ship had prevented him from doing so despite Jim’s reluctance to grant permission, but logically, he was quite curious.

Sarek looked ready to say more, but the door chime interrupted him from doing so.

The doors opened.

“Mr. Spock, can we talk? There’s a few things I’d like to say to you before the hearing.”

Standing in the doorway, filling it, was none other that the estimable Ambassador Raheem Uhura.

 

*

 

Ever after, Uhura would always feel as if her conversation with T’Pau was like meeting the Queen. Indeed, this wizened, noble slip of a Vulcan female was one of the most famous persons in the Federation, the matriarch of a lineage that could be traced back to Surak himself.

T’Sai S’chn T’gai T’Pau.

“Greetings, Lady T’Pau,” Nyota said, attempting to make her Vulcan as unaccented as possible as she held up a practiced salute. “Live long and prosper.”

There was utter silence in the room for a moment. Uhura was sure that the Vulcan elder could hear the pounding of her slow human heart. Two steps behind her, Amanda stood, and it was if she could feel her assurance, despite the fact they were both psi-null.

T’Pau reclined on the two-seater in the Enterprise’s suite that was generally reserved for such important dignitaries. It was a space that even Sarek had refused the year before during the journey to Babel, yet one that was logical given the attendants that had beamed aboard after the only partially successful maneuver.

“Lieutenant Nyota Uhura,” said T’Pau in accented Standard, very deliberately, before switching to High Vulcan. “Peace and long life. Wilt thou permit this one to examine thy bond?”

She bowed her head and nodded.

“Then come before this one, child.”

From anyone else, such words would have seemed condescending. Although there was no inflection in the elder’s voice, no expression on her face, somehow, Nyota felt reassured.

Uhura knelt before the clan matriarch, her eyes closed…

“There is no need. Open thine eyes, child, and look at this one.”

She looked up and into fathomless black eyes. And she was uncertain of when, or how, T’Pau had entered her mind until she had done so.

 _Her mind-touch was so unlike Spock’s that it was difficult to believe they were the same thing. Where Spock’s felt like heated seeking, curious and hungry to know everything about her, to possess every molecule of her, T’Pau immediately went to their bond, that strengthening light at the back of her mind. Her touch was so deft, so impersonal, and so_ light _that was it was soothing and reassuring, nothing like the fire she’d come to associate with her adun._

_Her… adun?_

_Uhura tested the unfamiliar word. It had not entered her mind before then, and yet…_

“Thou art bonded.”

Uhura blinked, and looked up at T’Pau.

But T’Pau was looking past her to Amanda. “It was illogical to assume, and yet, what is, is. Thy son hath managed what many of pure blood could not.”

Amanda didn’t fully get it. In long-practiced Vulcan, she said, “Esteemed one, are you saying that Spock and Nyota are…”

“Telik,” said T’Pau dispassionately.

“Well,” said Amanda. “That changes everything.”

*

 

“Ambassador Uhura,” said Spock once Sarek withdrew to afford them some privacy. “Let me reiterate the regrets I expressed previously about…”

“Save it,” snapped Raheem. “When I told you this was not the way to go about things, I meant it. My niece’s career could be permanently damaged by this hearing. As her commanding officer, you should have known better. What were you thinking?”

Spock waited until the older man stopped for breath. While he did not regret the events that had transpired, he did wish for his k’diwa’s kinsman to accept their bond. On Vulcan, the alternative was unthinkable, and had been since the time of Surak. One simply did not form a bond without the consent of both families. It would be illogical to do so, given the nature of familial links.

The accomplishments of Ambassador Raheem Uhura were considerable. He was one of the most famous Starfleet officers ever to emerge from the Earth continent of Africa. An accomplished helmsman who’d served under three captains before receiving his own ship, by the time Spock entered Starfleet Academy, Nyota’s uncle had already attained the rank of Vice Admiral, then Rear Admiral. Offered the post of Commodore, he turned it down in order to serve as Kenya’s representative to the continental assembly, then to United Earth. He’d been one of Earth’s contingent of ambassadors to the Federation for 4.2 years.

Spock reviewed everything he knew about Raheem in an instant. This time, he noted the significant genetic resemblance between him and his niece. He had the same high cheekbones, slender neck, and expressive dark eyes that she did.

Her father's brother.

“Answer me, Commander!”

“Please. Call me Spock.”

“That’s not all I want to call you… listen, do you know what I felt when Ambassador Sarek contacted me? How her _parents_ felt? And don’t get me started on her brother!”

“Nyota has told me her brother remains on his ship in the Laurentian system.”

“Nyota’s _brother_ wanted to come here and kick your ass! It was all I could do to prevent Kamau from going AWOL!” Raheem ran a hand of frustration over his clean-shaven head. “Spock, did you do what the doctor said? Did you take her mind, or anything _else,_ against her will?”

“Negative. I did not, nor would I ever, harm Nyota in any way.”

“Then where did Jabilo M’Benga get that idea from?”

“Dr. M’Benga was my rival for Nyota’s affections. When I prevailed, he refused to accept that your niece would choose an alien over a human from a culture like her own. The illogical charges he has brought are his way of seeking revenge.”

“I see,” said Raheem quietly. “So what are your intentions toward my niece?”

“I have none remaining, Ambassador.” Before the Kenyan could lunge at him, Spock continued. “It was my intent to demonstrate my regard for Nyota, anticipating that she would return my affection. She has reciprocated it in full measure, and she has agreed to be my bondmate.”

Raheem’s eyes narrowed. “Are you in love with Nyota? _What_ do you feel when it comes to her? Everyone knows that Vulcans don’t experience love the same way humans do…”

“Do we not, Ambassador? Humans utilize a single word in Standard -- ‘love’ -- to describe the affection you feel for your spouses, your children, your parents, your pets, even your preferred foods. You are most indiscreet in your use of the word.

“Conversely, the terms of endearment that a Vulcan uses for his bondmate are for her hearing alone. Rest assured that Nyota not only is the ultimate possessor of my affection and regard, she is also the one I cherish above all others. As my adun’a, I will always see to her needs. As her adun, it is my right.”

Raheem pinched the bridge of his nose. “So are you asking for my permission to marry her?”

“I ask only for your blessing, and for your assistance in persuading her parents and brother of the sincerity of my intentions.” Spock raised an eyebrow. “From what Nyota tells me, her sister is supportive of our bonding.”

“Kutosha,” said Raheem. “It is enough. I will support you during this hearing, Spock. But know that if you ever hurt her, I will disembowel you _before_ her parents and brother have their turn.” His dark eyes twinkled. “And I think Makena would beat us all to the punch.”

“Understood, Ambassador.”

“Call me Raheem, Spock. Call me Raheem.”

 

*

The rest of the senior officers were already assembled. Once Kirk and Spock walked into the hearing, the proceedings would begin.

“Somehow, I feel as if we should be in those stiff-necked dress uniforms,” muttered Kirk, pausing at the doorway of the officers’ mess, where the hearing would be conducted.

“As this hearing is not a full court-martial,” Spock explained, “that would not have been appropriate.”

“I know, Spock,” said the captain helplessly. “It just feels needlessly _official…_ especially when we know you didn’t do anything!”

“We must avoid the appearance of favoritism,” replied Spock. “You must understand that there can be no optimal outcome to this matter. Should I be absolved of Dr. M’Benga’s accusations, there will be those who believe that I engaged in improper conduct where Nyota is concerned. If I am found guilty, and face further court martial…”

“It would ruin everything that we’ve built. No, Spock, I just can’t accept that. We’re going to get you out of this, and I’m going to have my first officer and chief communications officer back.”

They walked into the room, Kirk with purpose and authority, Spock following behind with his hands clasped behind his back. All witnesses were seated in the first rows, including Bones and Chapel, providing medical testimony for each side. They sat with Spock’s parents, Ambassador Sarek and the Lady Amanda, and Ambassador Raheem Uhura.

T’Pau sat off to one side, as the guest official who would testify about whether there had been forced telepathy. She would serve as both elder and healer. Despite her relationship to Spock, there were few in the quadrant who would question her impartiality, and certainly none on Enterprise, not even Dr. M’Benga himself.

After all, it was rumored on the ship that the famous Vulcan elder actually forced the captain and Mr. Spock _to fight to the death._

While none of the senior officers would ever talk openly about the apparent rivalry between Spock and M’Benga, the rumors had been flying fast and furious on the BBS. Kirk, who rarely looked, had scanned the boards overnight and found an entire range of opinion, with below decks leaning overwhelmingly in favor of Spock. Among the enlisted crewmen and ensigns, he had quite the fanclub, it seemed.

The officers were a mixed bag, which didn’t surprise Kirk. After all, they’d had the most regular contact with him.

_“Jim, come back to bed,” his lover had told him at one point. “It does no good for you to pay attention to this idle gossip.”_

_“It’s not idle gossip if it means I lose my first officer…” And best friend, he thought but did not say._

_“All the same, you’ve hardly been sleeping since the anomaly, and you haven’t slept at all since the maneuver,” she told him. “You’re not eating, either. I’m going to take a page from Uhura’s book and tell my boyfriend to take care of himself.”_

_He’d pulled her onto his lap. “Already bad enough that two of the flagship’s senior officers are dating each other. Anyone finds out about the two of us, there’ll be no hearing, just an immediate court martial… one or both of us will have to leave the ship.”_

_“Remember, I left the ship for a while when all this first started. But you know, babe, I can’t seem to stay away. From the Enterprise… or from you.”_

Briefly, hours later, Kirk dared meet her eyes.

And because no one was looking, she winked at him. Outrageous little minx that she was.

There was a place for him to stand. Before him, between his podium and the assembly, there were two seats. Dr. M’Benga was already seated in one of them with a frown; the other was empty.

Kirk had to admire Lieutenant Uhura’s dignity. She was seated at the end of the first row, hands folded in her lap, looking straight ahead. Although many eyes flitted from her to Spock, her upright posture did not waver. As per usual, not a hair was out of place, her nails were perfectly manicured, and her short red uniform was crisp and neat.

The main difference were the earrings she was wearing, and Kirk was surprised to have noticed it. Instead of the hoops she favored, Uhura wore a pair of teardrop shaped, light blue stones that Kirk had never seen before.

Although Uhura did not look at him, Kirk noticed from the corner of his eye that Spock had not stopped looking at her.

He walked to the podium, motioning for Spock to have a seat. Then:

“Computer, start recording.”

“Recording inquiry,” responded the computer. “Matter: Commander Spock. Subject: Circumstances of alleged criminal mental and sexual assault, Lieutenant Uhura, Nyota.”

No one in the room uttered a sound.

“This hearing is hereby called to order,” Kirk said after a moment had passed. “The inquiry, to determine whether a general court martial should be convened against…” he cleared his throat, “Commander Spock on charges of mental and sexual assault, which are felonies in both Starfleet and the Federation, and specifically on both Earth and Vulcan.

“Let me stress to the assembly the serious nature of these charges. Should a court martial be convened, Commander Spock would be required to forfeit his position as first officer of this ship, and would need to be taken into custody immediately. He would be placed on administrative leave. If convicted, he would be stripped of rank and dishonorably discharged from Starfleet, and would then face criminal charges in the Federation’s courts…”

“It’s no less than he deserves!” M’Benga muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Most of the room jumped to their feet. There was a smattering of applause, but also quite a number of angry shouts in Spock’s defense.

The Vulcans neither moved nor spoke. But Lady Amanda looked absolutely anguished, and Lieutenant Uhura continued to stare straight ahead.

Spock remained impassive.

“Sit down, everyone, _now,”_ ordered Kirk, as T’Pau’s staff clattered against the ground. Once everyone was settled, Kirk continued by calling the first witness.

Dr. Jabilo M’Benga.

M’Benga spoke for nearly ten minutes. He talked about all of his interactions with Uhura since he’d first arrived on the ship, about moving from infrequent run-ins to an easy friendship whenever their shifts coincided… until he’d summoned enough courage to ask her out on a date.

Then M’Benga shared what working under Spock had been like after he’d dared to start dating Uhura.

“The commander isn’t the easiest person to take orders from under normal circumstances. But after ordering the lieutenant out of my presence in the mess hall, the next day, he reprimanded me for not getting the medicine together on time, which was beyond my control! He took me off the Elba II mission’s landing party, and then reinstated me a few hours later without providing any explanation! Everyone on this ship knows that’s not normal behavior from Mr. Spock. I knew something was wrong.

“But I didn’t understand the full extent of his unhealthy obsession with Lieutenant Uhura until we walked into her quarters after our second date… Mr. Spock was sitting right there! I know her door was locked when we first arrived. When I confronted him, he refused to leave.”

Kirk looked from M’Benga, to Spock, then Uhura, and back again. “And what did Lieutenant Uhura say about this?”

“She told him that she needed to talk to Spock, and that she’d see me in the morning. As I turned to leave, the last thing I heard her say was ‘Spock, what have you done to my head?’ About twenty minutes later, I received a comm from her quarters from Mr. Spock, saying they were done, and we could resume our date. When I got there, he left, and the lieutenant told me that she couldn’t see me any longer… because she wanted to be with _him.”_

“I see,” said Kirk. “Vulcans are touch telepaths, everyone knows that, certainly you.”

M’Benga shrugged. “Yes.”

“You’ve seen Vulcans perform mind melds.”

“Of course, captain.”

“Did you witness Mr. Spock touching Lieutenant Uhura in any way, shape, or form that resembled a mind meld?”

“Of course I didn’t! Vulcans are notoriously private! It’s not as if he would have melded with her on the bridge in full sight of everyone!”

Half the assembled officers laughed at the mental picture. T’Pau tapped her staff impassively. Kirk frowned at the audience.

“We’ll have order in here, or else everyone except necessary witnesses will be dismissed!”

He turned back to M’Benga.

“If Uhura consented to the meld,” said the doctor, “I doubt she would have commented that Spock had done something to her head. I heard her say that very clearly. Before we found him in her quarters, Lieutenant Uhura was dating me. She _preferred_ me. Since then, she’s barely left his side when she’s off duty!”

Once again, the audience had to be quieted down.

“Hearsay is not evidence in Starfleet,” said Kirk. “In order for there to be grounds for a hearing, a charge of sexual assault must also include evidence. Did you witness any physical contact between Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura?”

“No, sir, but I…”

“Did you examine Lieutenant Uhura?”

“I attempted to do so, sir.”

Kirk glanced at Spock. Although his first officer had not moved, the very tips of his ears were the slightest bit green… and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

Twice.

Not only did Kirk notice this, Sarek’s and Amanda’s eyes went to that muscle, too.

But it was Uhura breaking her impassive stare to shake her head at the commander, _just once,_ that clearly slipped Spock’s mask back in place.

“What happened?” Kirk said, exhaling a bit as he asked.

“The lieutenant refused to submit to any examination. She told me that I wasn’t her doctor, and I had no business making such groundless charges against Spock. She was extremely defensive, not to mention cold toward me after being very physically affectionate the hour before. It was almost like she was a different person.”

“Do you have anything further for these proceedings not mentioned in your written report?”

“Nothing further, sir.”

“Are there others here who can support your claims?”

“Nurse Christine Chapel prepared the records after Dr. McCoy examined Lieutenant Uhura. She saw them together.”

“Thank you, Dr. M’Benga. Nurse Chapel, please come forward.”

Christine Chapel walked to the seat that M’Benga vacated, her eyes defiant as she looked from Uhura to Spock and back again. She sat down.

“State your name, rank, and position for the computer, Nurse Chapel.”

“Name, Christine Chapel. Rank of Lieutenant, junior grade. Currently posted on the USS Enterprise. Position: Head of Nursing.”

“Thank you, Nurse Chapel. Can you speak to these charges?”

“Yes, I can.” Her angry eyes never left Uhura, who was not looking at her. “I had no idea that anything was going on between Lieutenant Uhura and Mr. Spock. Sure, we’ve all seen them in the rec room making music together, and he’s been giving her Vulcan harp lessons for a couple of years now, but I always believed they were only good friends…”

Chapel then shared what she witnessed in the medical quarters.

“They were practically being Romeo and Juliet behind everyone’s backs! I saw them in Sickbay when they didn’t think anyone was listening or looking. They did that finger touching thing, the one that his parents do, and she smiled. He even spoke in Vulcan to her, and she nodded as if she understood…”

Kirk snapped impatiently, “Lieutenant Uhura is the chief communications officer on the Federation flagship. Vulcan was a founding member of the Federation. Certainly she was proficient in Vulcan long before this incident.”

“Yes, captain, but I’ve never heard anyone speak Vulcan _that way.”_ She glared at Spock. “It’s clear to me that they’re in love with each other! They’re in _love_ , and if it wasn’t for these charges, none of us would have been any the wiser!”

“Now, Nurse Chapel, these charges are about sexual assault, not love. Our fellow crewmen’s love lives aren’t any concern of ours…”

“Speak for yourself, captain! Nyota Uhura was my friend! She knew how I felt about Spock! The entire ship knows! And yet she still chose to be a lying, _sneaky, backstabbing_ little _…”_

“That’s quite enough, Christine!”

The room went from a crescendoing buzz to complete silence at Uhura’s words.

“Lieutenant, you’re out of order,” said the captain to Uhura. “You’ll have your turn to speak soon enough.”

“I apologize, sir,” Uhura said firmly. “But I welcome it, because I have a few things to say to everyone involved with this farce!”

“All in due course.” Kirk turned back to Nurse Chapel. “Nurse, in your medical opinion, did you find any signs of physical or mental coercion on the part of Mr. Spock? Were they melding? Did he seem to be influencing her?”

“Of course not!” scoffed Chapel angrily. “Mr. Spock doesn’t need to meld with anyone to get them interested! He could have dated almost any woman on the ship! The girls are just wild for him, captain, you’ve no idea…”

“Not all of us are you, Chapel,” called out Rand, cracking her gum loudly as most of the people in the room who weren’t Vulcan chortled.

“Yeoman Rand, _dismissed_ ,” said Kirk immediately. “ _Out._ And that goes for anyone else who speaks out of turn. Nurse Chapel, I’ll repeat myself. In your medical opinion, did Mr. Spock assault Lieutenant Uhura in any way?”

Chapel’s eyes filled with tears. “No. It’s my opinion that whatever exists between them is consensual… and it’s mutual.”

Her tears spilled over.

“Captain, may I be excused?”

“If that’s all…?”

“It is.”

“Dismissed.”

Kirk turned back to the assembly as Chapel left the room, sniffling, all eyes on her.

“I’d like to hear from Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Leonard McCoy,” said the captain.

“I object, sir,” said M’Benga.

Bones, who had been uncharacteristically quiet so far, glared at the junior doctor as he went to sit down. “The hell are you objecting to, Jabilo?”

“The captain and Mr. Spock are your best friends! You’d say or do anything to get him out of trouble. Besides, what do you know about Vulcan anatomy? I studied at…”

“The VSA hospital in ShiKahr,” drawled McCoy. “I know, kid. _Everyone_ knows. No one here is running down your credentials. You’re certainly a darn sight more qualified for your post than I was when I was your age. But when it came time for us to perform open heart surgery on Vulcan’s ambassador to the Federation, and to perform a dangerous transfusion from our first officer, Christine and I managed just fine. I’m sure I’ll manage now.”

He turned to Kirk, then tossed sympathetic glances in Spock and Uhura’s directions.

“I’ve been a doctor for almost twenty-five years. It is my _medical_ opinion that no physical _or_ mental assault occurred. I share the opinion of my head nurse that the relationship between Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura is both mutual and consensual…”

“How do you know that she’s consenting?” snapped M’Benga. “How can you _possibly_ know that?”

“Because I told him, Jabilo, that’s how,” said Uhura angrily.

“Lieutenant,” warned Kirk.

“Forgive me, captain, but I can’t be expected to sit here while two of your most senior officers are insulted repeatedly and our privacy is being violated! These charges are offensive, not to mention totally illogical.”

“Illogical?” scoffed M'Benga. “Tell me, captain, does this even sound like the Lieutenant Uhura you know? Who’s obsessed with logic on this ship, hm?”

“In a moment, the only thing that any of you will be ‘obsessed with’ is the inside of the brig,” Kirk promised. “We _will_ have order. Thank you, Dr. McCoy. There is one more witness who would like to speak before we hear from the parties named in the formal complaint… Ambassador Raheem Uhura, would you come forward?”

The ambassador was quite an impressive figure. Refusing the offered chair to stand, his presence seemed to fill the room.

“It is regrettable that my first official visit to the flagship is under these circumstances, Captain Kirk. I am speaking on behalf of the “victim” since Starfleet regulations assume that Lieutenant Nyota Uhura may be under mind control. I am speaking as a senior official from the lieutenant’s hometown, her country, her continent, her planet _and_ her Federation. But most of all, I speak as a doting uncle.

“I have known my niece since she was born. She is my youngest sibling’s youngest child, my baby brother's baby daughter. Since I do not have children of my own, there are few in this quadrant who mean more to me than my little star, her brother, and her sister.

“I have spoken with Commander Spock. I have had words with him. I have had many dealings with Vulcans. I have been acquainted with Ambassador Sarek and his lovely wife for years. Our culture is as traditional as that of Vulcan. For the record, I wish to state that I do not condone the way that he went about courting my niece. The commander knows that before any interest was expressed to the Lieutenant herself, he should have communicated with his parents, who would have then contacted _her_ parents…”

“Uncle Raheem, this is the twenty-third century,” Uhura sighed. “Times have changed.”

“Lieutenant, my earlier orders apply to you as well,” said Kirk, although his tone was notably less sharp with her. “Ambassador, you’ve spoken with both parties. Are you of the opinion that your niece was coerced or assaulted in any way?”

“On my authority as a diplomat, I do not believe that Lieutenant Nyota Uhura was forced in any way. As a representative for the Uhura family, let me state for the record that if these charges are dismissed, the Uhura family is prepared to seek damages if my niece suffers in any way because of this unfounded assault on her hard-earned professional reputation.”

Uhura was aghast, but catching Kirk’s eye, had to settle for an angry gasp.

“What?” said Ambassador Raheem. “You’ve always been a good girl, Nyota, much unlike that sister of yours…”

“Begging your pardon, Ambassador, but we do need to move on.”

When the Ambassador returned to his seat in the front row, Kirk called for any other witnesses. Hearing none, he turned to his first officer.

 

*

“State your name, rank, and position for the computer.”

“Name, Spock. Rank, Commander. Position, Science officer and first officer, USS Enterprise.”

“How do you answer these charges?”

“As you are aware, Captain, I have submitted a full refutation of the doctor’s report in writing.”

“Would you care to supplement your written report, or add to it, in this public hearing?”

“Respectfully, I would not. From my perspective as a Vulcan, the charges are scandalous and this hearing itself is abhorrent. The bonding between a man and a woman in my culture is private and treated with the utmost respect…”

“Uhura is _not_ from your culture!” shouted Dr. M’Benga angrily. “That’s the problem!”

“One more time, Doctor, and you will be in the brig,” snapped Kirk.

Spock regarded M’Benga coldly and continued.

“We do not speak of such things to outworlders. Therefore, I have nothing further to remark upon outside of a formal court martial.”

There was silence in the room. Everyone looked from Spock to Uhura, and back again. The two parties in question were looking at each other, although what thoughts or words were being exchanged, none but they could ascertain.

“Fair enough, Spock. You may step down. The next witness is Lieutenant Uhura…” his hazel eyes narrowed as he regarded M’Benga, “and while I know that the nature of the doctor’s charges mean that her testimony may be questioned by some, as a senior officer aboard this ship, she has every right to make a public statement.”

“Thank you, captain.”

Every eye was on Uhura as she passed Spock on the way to the chair.

“Did you see that?” Masters whispered to Scotty, under her breath.

Scotty frowned. “See what, lass?”

“Their fingers touched! Right as they walked by…”

“I dinnae see anything.”

She nudged him. “What kind of engineer are you? You’re supposed to notice everything!”

“I’ll show ye the kind of engineer I am, lassie,” he growled into her ear.

“Lieutenant Commander Scott, Lieutenant Masters, is there a problem?”

“No, sir,” said Masters quickly.

Did Kirk roll his eyes as he turned back to Uhura? It was no matter. The communications officer was giving her credentials to the computer and all eyes were on her.

“Name, Nyota Uhura. Rank, Lieutenant. Position: Senior communications officer, USS Enterprise.”

“Lieutenant Uhura, these charges were brought on your behalf by Dr. Jabilo M’Benga, who asserts that you are under mind control. You have refuted them in a written report, submitted to me. Is there anything that you’d like to add?

“Yes, captain,” she said quietly. “If I may have permission to speak freely.”

“Please do so, lieutenant.”

“Captain, fellow officers. Esteemed delegation from Vulcan. And my dear Uncle, the Kenyan Ambassador, the most famous Uhura of all. We are in the year 2269, and yet, I feel as if this hearing could have taken place in the mid-twentieth century. More than 200 years after humans and Vulcans made first contact, there is still far too much mistrust between our species, and with other species in the United Federation of Planets as well. Interspecies friendships and relationships are still regarded with suspicion a century after the Federation’s founding. That’s the first problem with this hearing.

“The second problem with this hearing is that nowhere do the regulations we abide by acknowledge the toll that deep space missions take on perfectly healthy adults. The first ships that United Earth sent starfaring were often manned by entire families. We’ve all read about the Boomers growing up on trading ships and learned more about that phase of our history. Our ancestors were able to lead a semblance of a normal life while starfaring. Yet nothing about these Constitution-class starships facilitate normalcy. There is no privacy. The BBS spreads gossip even faster than the corridors, the mess halls, and the rec rooms. It means that during times of extended stress, our interpersonal relationships suffer great strain.”

“Lieutenant, I fail to see how any of this is germane to the matter at hand,” said Kirk.

“I’m getting to that, captain. Because it brings me to the third and most critical problem. I am the most senior woman officer aboard this ship. I’ve worked extremely hard to get to this rank in a culture where _hundreds_ of years after human women have attained legal equality, we _still_ face a huge amount of sexism in most workplaces. This is exacerbated in Starfleet, where at the Academy, freshman female cadets are still rated according to their attractiveness by males across species, where on most starships, some males will _choke_ before they can bear to utter ‘ma’am’ or ‘sir’ to a lady officer, and female crewmen are subjected to the most outrageous treatment.

“Of all the males across species aboard the Enterprise, the person who has treated me with the utmost respect since the first day I arrived has been Mr. Spock. He has been an incredible colleague and friend to me. I held him in the highest regard long before any of this happened. To bring such charges against him, to harm his career or mine, is lower than any blow I could have ever imagined receiving, captain. It is the ultimate insult.”

Uhura’s eyes held M’Benga’s.

“To think that even under mind control, that I wouldn’t display some kind of distress, that I am too _helpless_ and _female_ to be able to withstand such a violation implies that women shouldn’t serve in Starfleet alongside not only Vulcans, but also any other species we’ve heard about whom we _know_ are telepathic. I suppose if the Deltans vote to join the Federation next year, we’ll need to lock humans up, won’t we?”

“It’s true that Dr. M’Benga’s report contains a troubling theory, that human women are particularly susceptible to Vulcan men,” said Kirk. “I don’t see any evidence of that, but if certain species pose a danger to others, then just like with the Prime Directive, we may need to consider…”

“With all due respect, captain, beyond the doctor’s speculations, it has been _documented_ that human men are particularly susceptible to Orions, Elasians, Talosians, and God knows who and what else. Has there been a single case like this brought before Starfleet, to your knowledge?”

 _Especially since you yourself have proven susceptible to the charms of numerous species,_ Kirk heard Uhura specifically _not_ say. To his credit, he did not squirm at her implication of a double standard.

However, when Kirk heard Spock say admiringly, “Flawlessly logical,” he did.

He didn’t even have the heart to reprimand his first officer. Uhura smiled at the compliment as if Spock had told her that she was the most fetching creature he’d ever seen.

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” said Uhura. “But the captain hasn’t yet answered my question. Has a similar case been brought on any Federation starship involving a human male and a female of _any_ species that you fellas are... _susceptible to?”_

“Is the captain on trial now?” scoffed M’Benga.

“Your baseless charges are the matter at hand,” said Uhura. “Since the captain isn’t aware of any such case, perhaps we should ask the computer.”

“Or Spock,” said Bones. “Same thing.”

“We _will_ have order,” said Kirk, feeling rather as if the entire matter had gotten out of hand. “Lieutenant, we are not discussing hypothetical situations.”

“Of course not. However, as the one who’s been dragged into the middle of this, I’d really like an answer to my question.”

Kirk leaned back in his seat.

“Computer, have there been any similar cases brought before Starfleet involving a human male of any age, and a female of any warp-capable telepathic species?”

“Working,” said the computer.

There was silence in the room.

“No entries found in database.”

“Computer,” Kirk continued, eyes narrowed, “has there been a similar case brought on behalf of a human male against any member of a warp-capable species that possess intoxicating pheromones?”

“Working. No entries found.”

Kirk leaned forward and cleared his throat pointedly.

“Apparently, there have been no similar cases, Lieutenant. Anything further?”

“No, sir. Thank you.”

Kirk looked around the room. “Does anyone else have testimony for the record?”

No one said anything.

“Then Lady T’Pau, I have had word that you’ve examined Lieutenant Uhura. I turn the floor over to you.”

“The charges are without merit,” said T’Pau without preamble in accented Standard, standing to her feet and using her cane to stride to the center of the room, robes swirling around her, her elaborate updo as erect as her posture. “Spock and the human woman are bonded.”

“Wait, _what?”_ stammered M’Benga.

T’Pau’s hawklike stare fell on the human doctor. “Thou have trained with the best Vulcan healers, yet this thou did not know. Thou are not telepathic. Thus, thy training came to a logical conclusion.”

“How are they bonded, ma’am?” asked Kirk. “There’s been no ceremony, no record of this for the benefit of Starfleet…”

“No human ceremony was needed. This is the Vulcan heart. It has come down from the beginning, before Surak, without change,” T’Pau informed him. “Spock’s katra chose this human woman, and she gave herself to him, willingly. This hearing was illogical and thus unnecessary. The charges of kae’at k’lasa are without merit.”

More gasps and chatter. However, this time, Kirk was too stunned to issue reprimands.

“Ma’am, if I may… how do you know?”

T’Pau looked at Kirk as if he was an idiot.

“If the human woman was unwilling, there would have been considerable neural damage. There is none. Her health is optimal, and their bond is strong. All that remains is to certify the bond until such time as the koon-ut-kal-i-fee is required.”

Kirk, for once, was speechless.

“Come,” T’Pau ordered. “Spokh, Nyota, come before this one.”

Both rose to stand before the wizened Vulcan woman. Spock went down on one knee, and extending a hand, helped Nyota to kneel as well.

 

*

 

As she had in her quarters, Uhura felt T’Pau’s light, practiced mind-touch. And yet, this time, instead of a calming warmth in the back of her mind, Spock was at the forefront of her consciousness, the maelstrom of his emotions evident through the feel of his hand in hers… he hadn’t let go after she was down on her knees.

_I am here, k’diwa._

Uhura might have felt vulnerable and exposed under any other circumstances. After all, the entire contingent of officers aboard the ship were watching them just then. But T’Pau’s skilled mind-touch, and Spock’s reassuring presence in her head, made her know that everything would be all right.

Although her eyes were open, and she was looking up at T’Pau, she sensed her connection to others through Spock. There, distant in her mind, were his parents, and more distant, almost faint, a spark that she guessed was his brother. There were other, more distant relatives, and she sensed even more people beyond that… her curiosity was piqued.

 _All in time, child,_ she heard T’Pau say. _Thou must not overwhelm thyself. Thy bondmate will teach thee to shield thyself._

 _This one shall, honored Grandmother,_ was Spock’s reply. _This one trusts that no harm came to half of this one’s heart and soul from this one’s folly._

 _It did not,_ assured T’Pau. _Thine adun’a is parted from you and never parted. Never and always touching and touched._

The Vulcan matriarch released Spock and Uhura’s psi-points, and looked at Kirk.

“As humans ascertain thus, Spock and Nyota are bonded,” she told him, as they stood to their feet. “Their bond is strong. Their legal status on Vulcan shall not be questioned until the appointed time.” Her eyes flitted over to Sarek, then to Amanda (whose eyes had filled with tears). “May they live long and prosper.”

“In that case,” said Kirk, eyes twinkling, “not only is this hearing dismissed, let’s also make this legal in the eyes of the Federation and Starfleet. If there are no objections…”

“I object!” roared M’Benga. “This hearing was a farce!”

“Then you are excused, Dr. M’Benga,” said Kirk, smoothly. “You’re free to appeal to Starfleet if you find that justice here has not been served, although I think you’ll find it difficult to explain to Command why you are uniquely fixated on this particular interspecies marriage.”

M’Benga clenched his jaw. “I will not be a party to this sham of a ‘marriage.’”

“Then you are dismissed, Dr. M’Benga.” The captain turned to the onlookers. “If there are no other objections, then…”

“Wait!”

 

*

 

Spock’s heart began to pound in his side when he heard Uhura speak aloud the one word he feared most. Did she not want him? Was she even now experiencing doubt? Was she--

“Captain, with all due respect, I’m not getting married to the love of my life in the uniform he sees me in every day,” Uhura said firmly. “I need time to slip into my civvies, doll myself up for him! I'm more than an officer today, I'm going to be a  _bride!"_

The room exploded with laughter.

It was just as well. The din meant that no one save for Sarek and T’Pau heard Spock’s barely audible sigh of relief.

_Did you really think that I was going to object, Spock?_

He raised an eyebrow at her, hearing her thoughts in his mind. _The only certainty that I have when it comes to you is that you are illogically unpredictable, k’diwa._

_There’s another thing you can be certain about, mpenzi… you can be certain of my love._

_Do you have regrets, my Nyota?_

_None at all. I don’t want to wait. Let’s do this._

“One hour, Lieutenant,” said the captain. “I can perform the ceremony at 1200 hours.”

“If I may, captain,” said Lieutenant Masters. “We could help Uhura get ready… that is, if Yeoman Rand is not confined to quarters… if we just had a little more time.”

“The yeoman was not disciplined, Lieutenant Masters, simply dismissed from a hearing that is now concluded,” the captain said, then sighed, relenting. “1800 hours, Shuttlebay. All nonessential personnel are invited.”

 

*

By the end of alpha shift, Janice Rand’s quarters were packed to the gills with officers and crewmen of all genders. Uhura was a favorite, and Rand was quite possibly the most popular person on the ship, so there was quite a crowd of friends waiting to escort her to the ceremony.

The atmosphere was quite different from that of previous days. People laughed and talked, and shared a smuggled bottle of spicewine that Rand had kept in her quarters.

“Now that Mr. Spock and Lieutenant Uhura are tying the knot,” said Lieutenant Ryan Leslie, “I’m taking bets on who’s next.”

“Certainly not you, Les,” snapped Ensign Angela Martine, shaking her head. “Ten credits says you won’t _ever_ hook up with anyone, at least not on this mission!”

He looked her straight in the eye.

“You’re on!”

In Janice’s tiny bathroom, Masters and Rand were finishing Uhura’s hair and makeup.

“Why do I feel so nervous all of a sudden?” she asked them. “This isn’t me!”

“You’re getting married,” Rand reminded her, applying a final layer of topcoat on Uhura’s fingernails.  “Butterflies come with the territory.”

“But you know, this is pretty sudden,” Uhura protested, buoyed by the laughter and music in her friend’s quarters. “It hasn’t even been three weeks since the night of the party! I’m embarrassed by how quickly this has all happened!”

Masters examined the top of her friend’s hair, admiring her handiwork. “Well, Ny, do you really want to marry him?”

Rand laughed. “Stop it, Charli! Just look at the girl’s face! She can’t stop blushing and smiling!”

“Of course I want to marry him,” said Uhura. “But this is the first major life decision I’ve made that I haven’t weighed or thought through very much. I’m just… oh, girls, it just feels _right._ I don’t think anything or anyone has ever felt more right than he does.”

“Awww!” sighed Masters.

“I never thought you’d get so mushy, Nyota,” teased Janice. “You of all people!”

There was a knock on the bathroom door. The women looked up.

It was Christine Chapel.

Rand’s quarters were silent as everyone tried to eavesdrop.

“Nyota. May I please talk to you?” She looked at Masters and Rand. “In private?”

“Anything you have to say to her can be said in front of us,” snapped Masters. “We know you, Christine. For all we know, you’re planning to prevent that wedding by any means at your disposal…”

“She’s been searched,” called out Lieutenant Leslie jokingly. “She’s clean.”

“Yeah, but the last thing we need is a catfight right now…” Rand said tersely.

Chapel was looking at Uhura.

“Nyota knows me better than that. I simply want to talk to her.”

Uhura didn’t say anything.

“Ny, you look… you look so beautiful,” Chapel began. “I wanted to come and apologize to you for my actions since I found out about you and Spock. Jabilo wanted me to support his charges, but I couldn’t, not when I knew the truth.”

“I suppose you’d like me to thank you for not lying at an official hearing,” Uhura said tersely.

“No, it’s not that. I... I’m still hurting, and I still wish you could have come to me, but I understand why you didn’t. I’ve been blaming you for my heartbreak, Ny, and I know that’s not fair. I know I haven’t been a very good friend to you, but I’ll try to make amends over the days and weeks and years to come.”

Still Uhura was silent.

“Because I’ve had a chance to think about it. I’m not going to transfer. The Enterprise is my family. It’s my home. I will get over Spock… I’ve been here before, with Korby, and I’m going to get through this again.

“But I’m not leaving this ship, Nyota Uhura. And I’m not leaving this friendship. This hurts like hell, but if you don’t let me stand up with you with my head held high today, that would hurt even worse. Because I love you, and there’s nothing you can do or say to change that…”

She was cut off by Uhura standing up from the closed commode, and hugging her.

Both women were crying.

And the crewmen outside in quarters started applauding.

“Great,” said Janice Rand. “Do you know how long it’s going to take me to fix her makeup, you two? And Chris, you’ve got her foundation all over your dress! Just great....”

Charlene Masters just laughed.

 

*

 

In the end, it was a beaming bridal party who entered Shuttlebay at 1800 hours.  

Spock was already there, waiting, having worked the second half of alpha shift. Nothing that the captain or his mother Amanda said could induce him to take any extra time off. He was bonded, not incapacitated. It would be illogical to shirk his duties. There would be a generous two hour period in which he could meditate briefly, then don his dress uniform.

But the captain insisted upon accompanying him to quarters after shift, along with Dr. McCoy, Lieutenant Commander Scott, Lieutenant Sulu, Ensign Chekov, and several of the other senior officers. Spock marveled at human wedding customs that seemed to require groomsmen talking about their sexual exploits over liquor. Regret was expressed that he had robbed them of the opportunity to host something called a “bachelor party,” which when explained seemed illogical to the extreme. Why would Spock risk the wrath of his adun’a by allowing his male friends to procure aesthetically pleasing females for his supposed benefit?

“At Lieutenant Wincent’s bachelor party, there vas that Orion girl that did that thing vith her legs!” Chekov whistled, remembering.

“I hear Deltan girls are even better,” swore Bones, raising a glass. “One of my med school buddies from Denobula spent his break there one year. Forget Risa, I’ve said since my divorce I need to get to Delta IV one of these shore leaves.”

“You won’t regret it,” smirked Kirk. “Although I doubt the groom of the hour is appreciating this conversation, are you, Spock?”

Spock looked up impassively from his console, where he was finishing the day’s report. (It was logical to leave his schedule clear for later, for he had wedding night plans that involved neither reports nor consoles.)

“Vulcans are quite immune to Orion and Deltan female pheromones, Jim, as you well know.”

“Aye,” said Scotty, taking a swig of whiskey, “but ye sure aren't immune to human lasses!”

The other men all laughed.

“Yes, I think that Vulcans are endlessly fascinated by us humans, although they’ll never admit it,” teased Bones. “Our illogical women seem to get that green blood of theirs boiling.”

“It is more likely, doctor, that a growing number of intelligent and discerning human women appreciate the benefits of a Vulcan bondmate,” Spock returned. “Thus, logic would dictate that human men ought to be grateful that most of us are contented to seek bondmates among our own kind on Vulcan.”

Bones turned to the others. “I think mankind has been insulted.”

“Oh, I’m sure we have been,” chuckled Kirk. “Although Spock, I relish pointing out that it’s likely the other way around… that human women are for you what Orions are for us.”

“Imagine working alongside an Orion girl, day in and day out,” Bones laughed. “On a ship full of them. No wonder you meditate so much, Spock.”

Spock’s eyes rolled to the top of his head in spite of himself as the rest chortled and poured more drinks. Apparently, humans would never cease their illogical belief that the galaxy revolved around them and their watery rock of a planet.

But as his bride approached him, Spock knew that for him, the galaxy _did_ indeed revolve around a single human woman. In a golden dress he’d never seen her in before, Uhura seemed to float into the bay on her regal uncle’s arm.

He could not take his eyes off her pleasing face and form, although everyone was watching, and there was no privacy.

She was as radiant and majestic as T’Khut rising.

She was Spock’s.

The link was suffused with their mutual pleasure and happiness. But for Spock, it wasn’t enough. Once she was within arm’s reach, he held out a hand to hers.

In front of everyone, he pulled her to him, pressing their foreheads and fingers together.

Love. Lust. Comfort. Gratification. Contentment...

_Mine._

He savored the brief moment, then pulled back to see her radiant smile.

_I love you._

_I cherish thee._

Kirk looked from Spock to Uhura, grinning at them both.

Then he began.

“Since the days of the first wooden vessels, all shipmasters have had one happy privilege, that of uniting two people in the bonds of matrimony. We are gathered here today with you, Nyota Uhura, and you, Spock, in the sight of your fellows and kindred, in accordance with our laws and our many beliefs so that you may pledge your love and commitment to one another…”

 

*

Life on the Enterprise returned to normal relatively quickly after the wedding of Commander Spock and Lieutenant Uhura. What most crewmen were struck by was how little things had changed between them, at least in public.

They still served with the same unrelenting efficiency. Lieutenant Uhura’s department was still one of the most efficient on the ship. And Mr. Spock still demanded precision (if not, as most of the crew believed, _perfection_ ) from the newest enlisted crewman on up.

The crew soon tired of looking for overt public displays of affection between the couple after a few weeks. Other than the occasional finger touch, her slow smiles, and a distinct softening of his tone, they seemed much as they had always been.

That is, to all except the most senior officers… those who knew them best.

During mealtimes, Spock made it tacitly clear that he expected to sit next to his wife. Sometimes, the senior officers forgot, as they tended to mix it up at times. But after Spock loomed over whoever was in the seat next to Nyota a few times, joining the conversation effortlessly while holding his tray, their friends got the hint… and always left a place for him by her side.

They also reflected to themselves on the past. How many times before the anomaly had Spock sat next to Uhura without anyone being any the wiser?

In closer quarters, their intimacy was even more evident. But only senior officers were invited to the captain’s quarters for dinner, or over for card night, so most of the ship were oblivious to the fact that Spock and Uhura could indeed be as cozy as any other couple, his arm resting on the back of her seat, her leaning into his side.

And of course, they now shared quarters.

But being caught in flagrante delicto? _Perish_ the thought. It would never happen, no matter how closely any of the others aboard the Enterprise looked.

“No chance of little pointy-eared cafe au lait babies running down the corridors,” snarked one anon on the BBS, just before most of the lingering chatter about Spock and Uhura began to die down.

“Clearly a marriage of true minds,” tittered another anonymous commenter. “They probably play the harp and drink tea all night.”

Behind closed doors, another story altogether was unfolding.

 

*

 

“Spock, we are going to get caught,” Uhura giggled, as he nuzzled her shoulder.

“Caught by whom, Khiori t’nash-veh?" he murmured, deep voice rumbling in his chest as he savored her scent. "There is no one else aboard this ship.”

They’d finally made it back to Spacedock for an unscheduled maintenance stop. All senior officers felt it best for all concerned given the way that the ship had been compromised by the rogue coding from an alternate universe, let alone the other adventures that preceded it. This led the captain to proclaim two weeks’ general shore leave so that the air could be refreshed in their beloved ship, all stores restocked, and all diagnostics completed.

Before they returned to deep space, there would be two more weddings. Neither Spock nor Uhura had been able to get out of either, although both pointed out that they’d been married for more than two months. The first ceremony and reception would be in San Francisco, for his friends and hers working at Headquarters, as well as Spock’s Grayson relatives in Seattle who could not travel far. The second would be in Uhura’s hometown in Kenya, with all the tradition that it implied.

Both sets of parents would attend both weddings. Uhura would never hear the end of it from her mother, who learned about the ceremony -- and the _relationship --_  after the fact. She was making it up to M’Umbha by allowing her mother to host the wedding of the century.

There would be no end to Makena’s teasing.

And sometime in the future, five years down the road, there would be another ceremony on Vulcan, in the place where Spock had earned his life through spilling the blood of his dearest friend during his last Time. This Time, he’d earn his life through her love.

But that next Time was in their future, years after the current mission ended. Just then, they were concluding a romantic dinner on the bridge with a special dessert course made for only two.

“There’s no way we’re going to be able to clean up all the evidence!” she laughed, as her adun went from nuzzling her to kissing her soft skin. In appreciation, she ran her nails through the short, dark hair at his nape, just the way he liked it.

“Do not fear, my wife. I have planned everything.”

“Oh, I’m sure you have, you always do!” Uhura glanced over his shoulder at the pile of clothing on Kirk’s chair. Operation reds buried beneath his science blues and uniform blacks. “I’m never going to be able to see this bridge the same way ev.... _oh!”_

She gasped and whimpered as he slid back home, gripping her communications console with her free hand as he pressed her into the disabled buttons. His head dipped low to taste her collarbone, the curves of her breasts, then each dark, straining nipple, budded for his touch. As much as she wanted to throw back her head and vocalize, she couldn’t help but think that someone was still on the ship.

The thought scandalized her.

It also thrilled her to no end.

Uhura was pretty damned sure that she was officially the most sexually satisfied woman on the Enterprise, if not all of the 'Fleet, although to read some of the talk on the BBS, she’d practically sworn vows of celibacy instead of marriage.

 _I feel sorry for her. She’s a pretty, vibrant woman, and you know Vulcans only do it every seven years,_ said one authoritative source.

Like most of the senior officers, Uhura didn’t really pay much attention to the BBS other than glance at it once in a while. Between her duties, her friends, and Spock, she was far too busy for idle gossip. But she couldn’t help but respond to that anon with an anon of her own.

_Do you really think so?_

_Sure,_ replied the anon. _Everyone knows it._

At the back of her mind, Uhura remembered those comments and smirked with satisfaction, even as her moans intermingled with the smacking together of their bodies as he drilled her into her workstation.

_Every seven years, my ass. This husband of mine would go for it every seven hours if he could!_

_That is a most illogical challenge, ashayam, as seven hours would not coincide with shift changes and break times, and your optimal rest cycle is 7.45 hours._

Uhura was having trouble forming coherent thoughts as her peak drew nearer… _feels so damn good, baby…_ the fifth he’d wrung out of her since they’d finished dinner. They’d begun in the captain’s chair, where he’d feasted between her thighs. From there, she’d come twice at his own science station, where he’d pounded into her from behind as she gripped his scanner, then coaxed her to ride him on his chair, before taking her to hers...

Fulfilling all their mutual fantasies of fucking on the bridge where they worked every day.

_You are exceedingly wet, k’diwa. I fear this console may need to be replaced once we conclude tonight’s sexual activities._

_Well, as you’ve told me more than once, there’s no one more qualified to do so than me._

_Indeed, Miss Uhura. There seem to be no end to your qualifications. Let us explore more of your skill set for future reference._

His hands on her hips steadied her against the console she’d repaired too many times to count, but she still met each of his thrusts, measure for measure, running her hands frantically through the hair of his nape, down his back, to his pistoning hips, to the place where they were joined, cutting a trail upward through all that dense, dark hair on his groin and chest, lifting his face from feasting on her nipples so that she could taste his lips again…

_And yet I am also of the opinion that our sexual activities will last beyond this Terran night, adun’a, for I shall not be sated for quite some time._

She could feel his heart pounding frantically against her side, two or three beats for each of his thrusts. Letting one of her hips go, his hand slid between them to find the only button on that console that was working just then…

_Did you not know how often I have desired to have you in this position, k’diwa? Of taking you just like this, beyond thought or logic, claiming you in front of the helmsman, the navigator, the captain..._

Uhura came hard, her screams splitting the air of the bridge, clutching his shoulderblades, holding on to him for dear life as he rode out her climax in pursuit of his own satisfaction. He found it, pulling her right back into the emerald waves of bliss she was about to emerge from, submerging her senses again, as he filled her with enough seed to spill over.

How they were going to explain _that_ repair in the ship’s log, she had no idea.

But she never had many bright ideas whenever his knot swelled and vibrated within her, sending her body taut against his like a well-tuned ka’athyra string as he stroked her back, then sought her psi points. Although they no longer had to touch to share each other’s thoughts, Spock often hungered for the full meld…

...and Uhura found that she did too. Looking deep into his eyes, and then falling into their depths, she merged with him, body, mind, and soul. Experiencing exactly how she felt in his arms, how precious and fragile and delicate, how tempting, how essential, and how necessary always made her weak-kneed, but he knew this about her, knew that her legs would give away, and was strong enough to support them both as he shuddered and she trembled, both enjoying his knot.

This was Uhura’s favorite part of their lovemaking. The blissed-out feeling of being filled… and filling. The way that her heart sped up and his slowed down in a futile effort to beat together, then compromising by keeping time, two of his beats for every one of hers. Feeling secure and protected by his strength, and savoring the way he reveled in her feelings of comfort and tenderness.

She was cherished totally by him. He adored her. She was vital to him as food, water, and air. He was sustained by her.

His knot began to subside, but he still held her close.

 _I do not wish to withdraw from your body just yet, adun’a,_ pressing his forehead to hers. _Inside your keshtan-ur is paradise._

 _Stop it, you know that Vulcans don’t believe in paradise,_ she teased. _But if it’s any consolation, I feel the same about that lok of yours. No wonder your people are so secretive!_

_We are not secretive, only private. Such knowledge is only for one’s mate._

_Probably a good thing. If the Federation knew, drastic measures would have to be taken to protect women of all species from your charms…_

_Nyota,_ he admonished, but there was affection in his eyes and he pressed his lips to hers to avoid the embarrassment of a smile.

“Spock, I’m being quite serious,” she teased him. “Sex this good and this frequent isn’t normal, especially not for boring married couples! It’s probably not healthy for either of us.”

“On the contrary, it is efficient cardiovascular exercise,” was his reply. “As for evaluating the quality of our intercourse…”

“Listen, mister, don’t even go there!” she laughed.

“...the mathematics are somewhat complex, but I assure you, they are certain. Coupled with the fact that Vulcans have natural rhythm, and my eidetic memory, I can assure you that maximum satisfaction will be reached each time we copulate, barring illness or injury.”

Uhura chortled. “Your ego is out of control, Spock! What am I going to do with you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “A logical answer is that you will agree to continue our present activities on the helm, Lieutenant. Given your demonstrated excellence in the matter at hand, and my own considerable achievements in the area.”

As he lifted her from communications, and headed toward the helm for more, she laughed.

“Steady as she goes, Commander… steady as she goes.”

 

*

 

Far below Spacedock, all the other officers of the Enterprise were finally asleep, having been given accommodation at Headquarters, then given a reception that turned into a party to end all parties.

The difference was that this time, McCoy’s Sickbay didn’t have to produce all the liquor.

The penthouse floor was generally reserved for admirals and visiting dignitaries, but given the stature and the fame of the flagship crew, and the fact that there was not currently a major event in session, the captain and senior officers enjoyed the fine digs... all except the first officer, who insisted on supervising the ship's shutdown for routine maintenance, stickler that he was. A newlywed, his wife volunteered to keep him company on what was sure to be a far more boring night than the rest of the crew's dirtside fun.

In the largest room that afforded a view of the Bay, hours after the festivities ended, Kirk drifted in and out of consciousness, appreciating the vivacious blonde in his arms. On the ship, their relationship was forbidden, and of course his yeoman frequently pointed out that his first and only love was the Enterprise. There would never be a resolution as happy as Spock and Uhura’s had been for them. But Kirk was a firm believer in carpe diem -- he would always enjoy the time they had together.

Next door, the self-proclaimed country doctor was snoring softly beside a yeoman of his own, albeit not one from the Enterprise. She was a beautiful woman of not quite mature years, with a past of her own, and as she gazed at the chief medical officer, wondered what she could do to capture his heart.

Across the hall, the chief engineer and a lass so brilliant that she could serve in both Sciences and Engineering continued to feast on each other. The brilliant physicist had been determined to make the talented Scot forget the woman he’d left behind on Memory Alpha… and she was winning.

And at the end of the hall, the head of nursing stirred, feeling more relaxed and sated than she had in _ages._ Never mind that she’d drunk more at the reception than she had since the ship’s party out in deep space. Never mind that she couldn’t quite remember the identity of the warm body in bed next to her. Shore leave was just what the doctor had ordered....

She blinked at the first rays of sun that flooded from the East through the windows. Looked down…

...into the sleepy eyes of Dr. M’Benga, whose transfer to Headquarters had just been approved.

Both looked at the other…

_“AAAARGH!”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all, folks! Hope you've had as much fun reading this wild romp as I have writing it.
> 
> Confession: I deleted the original final scene, which provided a glimpse of the other side of the anomaly from AOS/Kelvinverse/reboot Uhura's perspective. I wanted somewhere in this chapter to have a moment where I went back to the original idea of the anomaly, like TOS Uhura in this AU hoping that AOS Uhura was as happy as she felt in that moment. Yet while the anomaly brought this S/U together, the comic was released right before Beyond, so my headcanon is that it was one of the cascade of events that led to AOS S/U's (very temporary) break. Of course, I made the decision to cut it because referencing the start of Beyond was too sad and solemn for a crackfic with a happy ending.
> 
> Special thanks to Chapter 10 reviewers: Yalegirl03, MarcusTheWu, KerryLamb, AL, Illusinia, DarlingSherlock, Frau_Blucher, Jades, and Barbie doll 83. You're the best!
> 
> Happy New Year to all, and to all, a good night!


End file.
